


2006 PoT Drabbles

by Whisper132



Series: PoT Drabble Collections [1]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2006-12-17
Updated: 2006-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 110
Words: 26,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5451446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisper132/pseuds/Whisper132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles from 2006 - still in the process of uploading these</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Maracas (Rikkai)

The problem began when Niou gave Kirihara the maracas. It wasn’t a large problem, but it was a problem nonetheless, seeing as Kirihara was refusing to relinquish the maracas and the karaoke room rental period was expired. All of the props were in the basket – it took a few goes to get Jackal to give up his tambourine, but Yaguu and Marui managed it – except for the bright red maracas. Sanada or Yukimura could easily have removed the maracas from Kirihara’s care, but the two left the room shortly after singing a duet and had not been back since. Renji warned the team that visiting the men’s lavatory had an eight-four percent probability of being a fruitless endeavor.


	2. Pi Wars (Various)

Kirihara poked at Renji’s back. His senpai had been sitting at the computer for the last two hours, furiously typing numbers into an IM screen.

“You promised me dinner. Hurry up." Kirihara said, poking at Renji with a pencil.

“I am engaged in a battle, Akaya. It is imperative that I not lose.” Renji’s fingers continued to fly over the keyboard.

Kirihara’s phone rang. “What?”

“It’s Kaidoh. Yanagi and Inui-senpai are having a competition to see who has more of pi memorized. I can’t get Inui-senpai away from the computer.”

Kirihara looked at Renji again. “Hey Kaidoh, wanna go to dinner? Renji’s paying.”

“Fsshuuu. Inui-senpai will buy dessert.”

“Cool. See you in a bit.” Kirihara walked to Renji’s dresser, took his wallet, and left.


	3. Smooth Like Chocolate (Various)

Sanada stood in line, a CD held close to his chest. There were three girls ahead of him. He didn’t know the uniforms, but he was far from home, so it was understandable.

“Sanada, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Fuji Syusuke smiled and waved with his left hand. His right arm was busy keeping Tezuka from leaving the store. “Tezuka and I came to purchase Eiji’s birthday gift. The new Chocolate CD is out today.”

Sanada did not respond. If he ignored the Seigaku tensai, there was a chance of escaping with little incident.

“I see you’re purchasing the CD as well. Are you a fan?” Fuji chuckled lightly and tilted his head to the right. It was almost resting on Tezuka’s shoulder. Tezuka moved slightly to the right but said nothing.

Sanada glared at the CD in his hand. “It’s for Yukimura.”

“Oh? I thought he was more into classical.” Fuji’s eyes opened slightly and his grin widened.

Sanada turned away as it was his turn at the register. He opened his black leather wallet, bypassed his Chocolate Fanclub Card, and paid for the CD. As he passed the two Seigaku players on the way out, he averted his gaze


	4. Momo and Kaidoh (Seigaku)

Momoshiro’s shoelaces were untied. He knew this, but couldn’t find it in himself to reach down and fix them, not when he’d just lost to Kaidoh in a practice match.

“Momo-senpai, your shoe’s untied.” Echizen was drinking Ponta and waiting for a ride home. Momo ignored him. 

“Hey Ochibi, you and Momo get in a fight?” Kikumaru draped himself over Echizen, who continued to drink his Ponta, ignoring the question.

“Fssshu. The baka’s just cowering because he lost.” Kaidoh and Inui walked past. 

Momo rushed Kaidoh, grabbing his shirt. “I would’ve won if my shoe hadn’t come untied and tripped me during my Dunk Smash.” 

Inui stepped away and took out his notebook. His glasses were glinting, though, so Momo let Kaidoh’s shirt go. 

“Fssshu. Making excuses. Pathetic. Come on Inui-senpai, we’re late for training.” Kaidoh and Inui walked away, Kaidoh adjusting his bandana and Inui scribbling notes in his book.

“Momo-senpai, I’m going to miss dinner.” Echizen wiggled out of Kikumaru’s grip. Kikumaru sighed and jogged back to the clubroom. Oishi was still cleaning up.

“I’ll win next time,” Momo said, slinging an arm around Echizen’s shoulder.

“You said that last week, Momo-senpai.”

“I mean it this time, though. I won’t get distracted anymore.” On the horizon, Inui and Kaidoh disappeared into the halo of the setting sun.


	5. Kaidoh and Inui (Inukai)

Kaidoh switched on his MP3 player and began jogging. Inui-senpai loaded the player with enough MP3s to last the duration of Kaidoh’s run. Inui-senpai said there would be a signal halfway through so Kaidoh would know to turn back.

The first few songs were slow and Kaidoh jogged lightly, using the time to stretch and focus himself. The tempos picked up quickly, culminating in a few dance remixes that Kaidoh secretly danced to in the shower. Kaidoh did not want to know how Inui-senpai knew he liked dance mixes. If he asked, Inui would just say, “It’s a senpai’s job to know his kouhai.”

Kaidoh was nearing a park when Inui’s voice interrupted the music. “Kaidoh, it would be advantageous for you to divert your run to my home instead. Judging from your regular jogging patterns, you are now twenty minutes from my home. I’ve made dinner and will be planning for your arrival at 6:10.” The dance music resumed and Kaidoh set off for Inui’s, a little faster than usual, just so he could get there early and throw his senpai off.


	6. Sanada and Yukimura (Sanayuki)

Sanada tried to move his legs but found, to his horror, that they were asleep. He wiggled in his chair, hoping the motion would stimulate blood-flow.

“Is there a problem, Sanada?” Yukimura adjusted himself in Sanada’s lap and began petting the top of Sanada’s head. “How long do you think it will take Niou to run his laps?”

Sanada wiggled again. Yukimura must be sitting on a vein, there was no other explanation. “Renji is more suited to answer that question.”

Yukimura leaned closer, pressing his chest flush against Sanada’s. His words were a warm whisper across the top of Sanada’s ear. “But he’s running, too. Fifty laps, if I recall.”

Sanada thought Yukimura’s hand was moving up his leg, but he couldn’t be sure. Everything felt like pins jabbing into his flesh. “Yes, fifty laps. Twenty-five for insubordination and twenty-five for baiting Akaya.”

“There’s plenty of time then.”

Yes, Yukimura’s hand was definitely moving up Sanada’s leg. Sanada tried to squirm a bit, hoping to dislodge Yukimura’s hand, but the bench on which they were sitting was as old as Rikkai itself and chose that moment to give way, sending the two boys crashing to the ground in a spray of splintered wood. “Are you okay?” Sanada asked.

Yukimura lay, sprawled across the length of Sanada’s body. He blinked, then smiled. “I’m just fine.” His hand trailed across Sanada’s chest and downward. “You broke my fall. How valiant of you, fukubuchou.” 

Sanada inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. The feeling had most definitely returned to his legs.


	7. Taichi and Mizuki (Various)

Taichi Dan ran in a circle. He would’ve run around the court, but Akutsu-senpai said to stay put. Sengoku-senpai said to train with the rest of the team. Running in a circle seemed the best way to satisfy both demands.

“Nfu, is this an agility exercise?” Mizuki Hajime slid up to Taichi and began trotting after him.

Taichi’s circle widened. “I’m training desu.” He said, picking up the pace. The greasy San Rudolph manager was on Akutsu’s “To Beat” list. Taichi didn’t want Akutsu to think he was fraternizing with the enemy.

“And Minami-buchou had you do this?” Mizuki was catching up. Taichi could smell the mink oil in his hair.

“Sengoku-senpai and Akutsu-senpai told me to desu.” Taichi kicked the speed up again. The scenery began to blur.

“And where are they now? Off together?” Mizuki began to slow down, his breathing getting heavy.

Taichi, concentrating more on not getting caught than watching where he was going, bumped into Mizuki, sending them sprawling to the floor. “Get off of me desu.” He shoved, but Mizuki would not be budged.

“That’s a very fetching headband,” Mizuki said, leaning forward to inspect it.

A roar shook the concrete.

“Akutsu-senpai, I can explain desu!” Taichi flailed under Mizuki, who was playing dead.

“Yarouuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!” Akutsu’s fist flew, impacting with Mizuki’s chin, lifting the other boy off the pavement.

“Oohoo, lucky!” Sengoku cheered, sauntering over to pick Taichi up off the ground. “And here I thought he was going to be rough toni…nevermind, nevermind!” Sengoku laughed and patted Taichi on the head. “Come on Dan-kun, let’s get that oil washed out of your jersey!”

Taichi followed Sengoku to the locker room, where they washed Dan’s jersey to the sound of screams, echoing in the distance.


	8. Atobe and Tachibana (Atobe/Tachibana)

“Ore-sama does not require your assistance. He can warm up just as well with the wall.” Atobe finished stretching and picked up his racquet. The tournament was small, only the first forty registrants were admitted, but the competition would be difficult. The top players in the junior circuit were all registered.

“Serve the ball, Keigo. We don’t have time for you to be a jackass.” Tachibana’s face was red and sweaty as he’d just returned from a run. He stood, arms and racket crossed over his chest. 

Atobe huffed and turned his back, walking toward one of the courts designated for warm-ups. “Must you be so crude?”

“Must you have your designer panties in a twist at all times?”

“Ore-sama prefers boxers, thank you. Ore-sama does not share Oshitari’s choice in intimate wear.” Atobe looked around to make sure no one was watching, an amazing thing given the volume of their argument. “We could discuss it further, if you like. Perhaps the entire assemblage would care to hear about your own choice in undergarments.”

“Keigo, you know I don’t…” Tachibana sighed and rubbed at the ping of pain in his temple that was growing larger the longer he spoke with Atobe. “Can we just warm up without fighting? Just this once?”

“Ore-sama was not fighting, he was making a point.” Atobe took a ball from his pocket and served. 

“With a sloppy serve like that, you won’t be making any points, let alone moving through the first bracket.” Tachibana knew he said they shouldn’t fight, but goading Atobe was as natural as breathing.

“Ore-sama does not need to waste the energy his magnificent serve requires on you. Pray that you do not have to play me in the tournament.” 

The rally was light, neither player using any more strength than was required to reach the ball and toss it over the net. Finally, a line began to form at the practice courts and the two were forced to relinquish their space. On the way out, Tachibana grabbed Atobe’s wrist, pulling him toward a large tree to the side of the park.

“Ore-sama is not to be dragged about.” Atobe made a show of inspecting his wrist for injury.

Tachibana pulled Atobe close, pretending to examine Atobe’s wrist as well. “Just one before we go?” he asked, not waiting for Atobe’s reply before he dipped in to brush his lips over Atobe’s. Atobe tasted like cherrymint – a new lip-gloss no doubt – and salt. “Good luck. Remember what happens if you lose.” A tap to Atobe’s bottom and Tachibana was striding off toward the location of his next match, an image of Atobe in only a seafoam apron, serving him sugared strawberries putting a spring in his step.


	9. Tezuka and Kikumaru (Seigaku)

“Do you think Oishi forgot on purpose?” Kikumaru asked, twirling his racquet around his wrist. With every rotation, the ending snap grew louder. 

“He’s busy with the student council. I doubt he would purposefully neglect you.” Tezuka was lacing up his sneakers, making sure he didn’t make eye contact with Kikumaru. If he did, then Kikumaru would know he was lying. Kikumaru could smell lies like a shark could smell blood. Only Tezuka and Fuji were able to trick his expert senses.

Kikumaru’s racquet slipped halfway through a rotation. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Let’s play.” He picked up his racquet and moved onto the court.

Tezuka held back a sigh and fished his own racquet out of his bag. He’d just been passing by when he saw Kikumaru waiting at the rental courts, looking lost and angry and excited all at once. Tezuka guessed Eiji was waiting for Oishi, the two usually practiced at this time, but Tezuka was also privy to Oishi’s current location, which was far from the court on which Kikumaru was presently jumping to warm up his legs.

“Buchou hurry, we only have another twenty minutes before our reservation’s up!” 

The first ball Tezuka served went into the net. The ball was a lead weight and Tezuka’s limbs felt like gelatin. 

“Buchoooouuuu, you’re not supposed to go easy on me. I can play singles!” Kikumaru’s voice cracked at the word singles, but he kept bouncing from foot to foot, waiting for the ball.

Tezuka served and the ball was easily returned. Serves weren’t Tezuka’s specialty. He, like Oishi, was a Game Maker, one who controlled the flow of the game to maximize on scoring opportunities. Kikumaru’s left foot was still suffering the effects of a slight sprain, the result of a Kikumaru Beam gone wrong. A slice to that side would put the ball in line for a Tezuka Zone.

“Ne Buchou, since the season’s over, what’re you gonna do? Me and Oishi were going to start working on our formations for next year, but…” Kikumaru laughed, a gurgling, honking sound, and rubbed at his eyes. “That topspin thing the ball did was weird, Buchou. Is that how your Zone works?”

“Aah.” Tezuka turned to fetch a spare ball from his bag. The other ball rolled behind Eiji and into a small crevice in the back corner of the court, unreachable. “It’s your serve.” He tossed the ball across the net and Eiji caught it.

“Ne, Buchou, is there always this much space on the singles court?” Eiji’s fingers tightened around the tennis ball in his hand. “I never noticed it was so big before.” 

Tezuka was fast enough to hop over the net to catch Eiji as his legs buckled. This was the third time this week. Fuji said that Eiji wasn’t eating enough to keep up with his high metabolism. Eiji’s eyes were sinking back, his irises contracting and expanding at random intervals. “It’s very big,” Tezuka said at last, sliding an arm under Kikumaru’s legs and carrying him to the bench. “It is your job to become big enough to fill it.”

Eiji curled into Tezuka’s chest, his own barely stirring though Tezuka could feel the rapid pulsing of the vein in the back of Eiji’s knee. “That’s a lot of court to fill, Buchou.”

A hesitant hand patted Kikumaru on the head before working, in vain, to smooth down strands of red-brown hair. “Aah.” The sun was going to set soon. Kikumaru’s family would wonder where he was. “It is difficult, but you are a capable singles player.” Perhaps tennis wasn’t what Eiji wanted at the moment, but it was all Tezuka had. Tezuka played singles. He filled his court.


	10. Sengoku and Sanada (Sanada/Sengoku)

“You are stalking me.”

Sengoku scratched the back of his head and laughed. “I’m not stalking you. I’m flirting. There’s a difference.” Sengoku didn’t expect Sanada to get the intricacies of courtship, but he thought the Rikkai fukubuchou would’ve grasped on to the rudimentary principles, at the very least.

“You are stalking me. Go away.” Sanada turned on his heel and headed toward a small gift shop, the tenth of its kind along the street the two tennis players were walking.

“If I go away then I’ll have wasted all the time we’ve been flirting with eachother.” Sengoku jogged after Sanada and placed a hand on the other boy’s shoulder. “Let’s go to lunch.”

“No.”

Sengoku squeezed. “Wow, you’re really ripped. I bet you’d look good without your shirt on.” He looped his free arm around Sanada’s waist. “Come on, there’s a dressing stall in the back, I want to check something out.”

Sanada easily broke free. “Do not touch me.” He picked up a small teacup decorated with Spanish guitars. “This please,” he told the sales clerk.

“For your mother?” Sengoku asked, his hand running up and down Sanada’s spine.

“It’s for Yukimura’s birthday.”

A small undulation swept under Sengoku’s skin at the mention of Rikkai’s captain. Yukimura Seiichi was well know to be not a demon, but The Demon, not a devil, but The Devil. “You should hang out with better people. Stay at my house tonight.”

“No.”

“We have an awesome view. Our apartment’s on the tenth floor of the building. You can take off all your clothes and lay out on the porch to tan and no one will see you!” Paydirt, Sengoku’s hand was successfully under Sanada’s shirt and, while the nice elderly lady wrapped Yukimura’s teacup and pretended not to hear a word Sengoku was saying, Sengoku started to slide his fingernails (what of them remained after a lifelong nail biting habit) along Sanada’s lower back. “Just one night.”

“Will you go away?”

“Probably not.” Sengoku leaned in to whisper, “But you won’t want me to.”

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“No.” Sanada bowed to the shopkeeper and walked hurriedly out of the store, Sengoku close on his heels.

“Okay, how about we just do dinner. No nudity?” It was a crap concession, but he could always think of something better later.

“No nudity?”

“None. 100% clothed.” Sengoku gave what he hoped was an honest smile.

“Fine. I’ll be there at six.” Sanada gave one nod, his way of sealing an agreement, then disappeared into the throng of shoppers.

“Dinner at six, no nudity. Check.” Sengoku looked around, wondering if there was a store that sold edible body paint. Dinner was a no nudity affair, but desert was complexly open for negotiation.


	11. Amane and Kurobane (DabeBane)

Kurobane Harukaze lay atop a large dome-shaped jungle gym, staring up at the cotton-ball clouds as they fluffed across the sky. “Check it out, they disappear a little bit as they go.”

Amane Hikaru, laying upside-down on a nearby slide, blinked. “Yeah, they do.”

Kurobane tensed, waiting for a pun, but none came. Dabide was weird like that, punning one moment then normal the next. It kept Kurobane’s nerves on edge. “Think it’ll rain later?”

Dabide hooked his feet through the handlebars at the top of the slide and sat up. “No.” A smile curved his lips outward like a big, orange cat.

“Just say it,” Kurobane sighed, scooting off the jungle gym. The kids would be out of school soon and, if they didn’t want to be mobbed by a mass of six year olds, he and Amane had to leave.

“No. I’m tired of you kicking me.” Dabide unhooked his legs and slid down, head first, settling in comfortably at the bottom of the slide with his legs dangling.

“I promise I won’t kick you. Just say it.” Kurobane held out his hand to help his doubles partner off the slide.

“No.” Dabide accepted the hand, but didn’t move. “You’ll hit me.” He pulled, sending Kurobane sprawling across him. He wrapped his arms loosely around Kurobane’s waist.

Red-cheeked, Kurobane buried his face in the crook of Dabide’s neck. “What were you going to say?”

Long fingers scratched through Kurobane’s hair. “Forgot.”

“Liar.”

Dabide’s lips quirked up again. “Do you lie in a bed of lies when you lay with a liar?” He snickered, then flinched, waiting for the blow.

“Stupid,” Kurobane sighed, nuzzling in for one more moment before the children came. “I said I wasn’t going to hit you. Don’t do it again, though, or I’ll smack you clear across the campus.”


	12. Kirihara and Atobe (AtoKiri)

Kirihara sat at the top of the Hyoutei tennis auditorium, tossing a ball. Rikkai had a school holiday to commemorate the school’s founder, some old guy that Kirihara blamed for not giving the tennis club enough money to put up fences big enough to keep the fangirls out. There was nothing to do with his afternoon but spy on Hyoutei.

There really wasn’t a need to spy on Hyoutei- they weren’t going to nationals – but watching Atobe order his subordinates around was fun. It was the kind of atmosphere Kirihara wanted when he was captain next year. If Sanada-fukubuchou didn’t kill him first, that is.

“Atobe, your pet is here,” Shishido snickered, handing a towel to Ohtori in exchange for a water bottle. “Better take care of him before he causes another riot.”

“He is not ore-sama’s pet any more than Ohtori is your pet.” Atobe smirked at Ohtori’s blush. “Perhaps a good deal less, ah?” Hyoutei’s captain looked around the grounds, appraising, before snapping his fingers to end practice. One more look around the courts and Atobe strided up to meet Kirihara.

“You should make them run laps before they leave,” Kirihara said, standing. “Sanada always makes us run laps.”

“Ore-sama is not Sanada.” Atobe walked past and Kirihara flanked him, per usual.

“Nah, Sanada’s boring and has his mom cut his hair.” Kirihara reached up and slid a single finger through Atobe’s periwinkle tresses. “Also, you use conditioner and I think he just throws sand in his hair.”

“And you know this how?”

Kirihara snickered. Atobe would love this. “Niou-senpai told me to stick some gum in fukubuchou’s hair while he was asleep in the clubroom after practice. It didn’t work because fukubuchou has creepy senses, but I got a hand in his hair and it was gross.”

Atobe chuckled and slowed his pace so Kirihara could walk beside him. They were out of view from the rest of the team. “You ran laps then, ah?”

Kirihara nodded furiously and, after a few darted looks to make sure no one was watching, he stepped a few inches closer and slid his hand into Atobe’s. “Fifty. My legs were all wobbly when I was done and I fell asleep on the bus home and wound up at Seigaku.” Kirihara’s eyes went wide when he realized his mistake. You didn’t mention Seigaku on the Hyoutei campus or in Atobe’s presence.

“Did you now? That must have been…interesting.” Kirihara could see the sting in Atobe’s eyes and felt the hand holding his slacken a little. Rikkaidai was going to trounce Seigaku at finals, not just for Yukimura-buchou, but for Atobe as well. The two were prettier than everyone else in the world and didn’t mind it when Kirihara sometimes broke things when he was angry. Only Atobe gave Kirihara goodnight kisses, though.

“Ne Atobe, you can come over for dinner tonight if you want. We’re having that mackerel that you like.” Kirihara’s mother cooked the best mackerel in the world and, unbeknownst to the rest of Hyoutei, Atobe had a fetish for common foods. Sometimes he would sneak over to Kirihara’s on the weekend for instant Nissin ramen. And studying. Lots of studying.

“Ore-sama shouldn’t tax your resources.” It was Atobe’s standard line when he wanted Kirihara to “force” him into coming.

Kirihara grabbed Atobe’s arm and began dragging him off campus. “Don’t be stupid and stop acting like I’m poor! Mom’s already making some for you, so you can’t say no.”

Atobe shook off Kirihara’s arm but continued walking forward. “It can’t be helped, I suppose.” Atobe made a clucking sound with his tongue. It was the same sound he made when Kirihara was biting his neck “Dining with peasants again, how unbefitting such a magnificent being.” Atobe tossed his hair and smiled, a quiet, secret smile that only Kirihara got to see.

Kirihara tucked that smile into the back of his mind. He’d pull it out again when he saw Seigaku. They were going to pay for making Keigo upset. First, though, Kirihara had to test his plan. The weekend’s match against Fudomine would be a lovely practice.


	13. Inui and Jirou (Various)

“Do that thing where you scream!” Jirou tugged at Inui’s jacket while bouncing up and down, the racquet in his backpack bumping the back of his head lightly.

Inui slid his glasses up his nose and looked down at Jirou. “I don’t scream. You must have me mistaken with Akazawa of St. Rudolph. If you’ll excuse me, I have data to gather.” Inui tried to shake Jirou off, but the Hyoutei regular had a surprisingly strong grip. Inui entered the information into his notes.

“You used it against that Rikkai guy. It woke me up. Come on, do it!” Jirou tugged again, gathering a little more fabric in his hands. Inui’s shirt rode up with each tug.

“That was an isolated incident. The stimuli for the occasion are only 2% likely to arise again. Please let go of my jacket. You are wrinkling it.” Again Inui tried to regain control over his clothing and was thwarted by Jirou’s iron grip.

“Do it!” Jirou tugged. “Do it do it do it do it do it…”

“NO!” Inui howled with enough force to knock Jirou back.

Jirou’s eyes widened and, after a quick check to make sure his tailbone was broken – it sure hurt enough – he bolted up an reattached himself to Inui’s side. “Suuuuuugoi! Do it again!”


	14. Yuuta and Jirou (Jirou/Yuuta)

“Wow, you’re Fuji Syusuke’s younger brother, aren’t you?”

An insistent arm tugged at Yuuta’s jersey. Yuuta smacked it away. “I’m nobody’s younger brother. Go away.”

Jirou grabbed at Yuuta’s shirt again and trotted beside the disgruntled second year. “The Hakugei is sooooo cool, don’t you think?”

“No.” Yuuta didn’t bother trying to shrug Jirou off. If he kept to short, bitter answers, the cheerful Syusuke-lover would go away. They always did.

“So, what cool things do you do?”

“I..uh…I” Yuuta stared into Jirou’s enthusiastic, sincere gaze. No one’d ever asked about him before. “I’m not so great,” he said, looking away.

“It’s not fair to hide things!” Jirou said, tugging at Yuuta’s sleeve, nearly pulling the shirt off Yuuta’s shoulders. “You’re just lying so I can’t tell the others.” Jirou tugged Yuuta’s arm to his chest and squeezed. “I promise I won’t tell! Show me your special move, please?”

For such a dopey guy, Jirou was impossibly strong. Yuuta’s fingers were beginning to tingle from lack of blood-flow. “It’s called the Twist-Spin Shot. I can’t do it too much or I’ll hurt my arm.” Mizuki should’ve said something about that, the bastard.

“Do you have a match coming up?” Jirou let go of Yuuta’s arm, almost as if he were concerned for its well-being.

“Yeah. We’re not winning or anything, though.” Yuuta rubbed where Jirou held him. The skin felt cold.

“Cool! I’m gonna watch your special moves, then we can go eat pizza and watch movies!” Jirou caught up Yuuta’s hand and held it.

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” Yuuta’s voice was a grumble, but his hand held fast to Jirou’s as the enjoined digits swung in time with Jirou’s humming.


	15. Shitaki (Shitaki)

If Taki didn’t get his hands off Shishido-san, he was going to lose them.

“Hey Ryou, you still training in that old knocked down place at night?” Taki tickled Shishido’s nose with a cattail while he spoke.

“Shishido-san and I train there occasionally,” Choutarou said, his fist clenching around the Ponta can he held. “We like to vary our routine, though.”

“Yeah, what Choutarou said.” Shishido scooted a little closer to Ohtori. Taki leaned over so he was casting a shadow over Shishido-san.

Ohtori threw the can of Ponta. It hit Taki’s head and drizzled grape soda onto his jersey.

“Taki, go clean up,” Atobe ordered. He was sighing, which probably meant he knew everything Choutarou was thinking. There were probably going to be laps after the team picnic. “Shishido, explain the concept of subtlety to your doubles partner, ah?”

“Fuck off, Atobe.”

Definitely laps.


	16. Shitaki (Shitaki)

“Could you not stare at every guy that passes?” Shishido clocked Taki upside the head with a tennis magazine.

“I don’t stare at every guy, just the good looking ones.” Taki’s head was turned to stare out at the crowds passing the Starbucks he and Shishido were sitting in.

“You’re undressing them with your eyes, and that’s cheating.”

“Like you don’t stare at Ohtori’s abs every time he does that little serve of his.” Taki saw the way Ryou drooled over the second year’s body. It was only a matter of time before Ryou left him in the dust for greener pastures.

“Only because you constantly stare at Oshitari’s ass in the locker room.” Shishido’s nose twitched at the mention of the tensai. The two never got along, something about Shishido punching Gakuto in the first week of first year. Oshitari held grudges way too long.

“Everyone stares at Oshitari’s ass. It’s the best on the team.”

“You just have a weird megane fetish.” Shishido wrinkled his nose again. If he didn’t stop it, Taki was going to kiss him for being cute.

“I like smart-looking guys, okay?” Taki ran his eyes over Shishido. “Though sometimes I deviate from my standards.”

Shishido hit him. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“I think we both are well aware of my special abilities, Ryou. You take advantage nightly, if I’m not mistaken.” Taki was used to the constant ache in his rear now. Shishido had ridiculous stamina. It probably came from his short-man complex.

“And you’re a whore.”

“Are you complaining?”

Shishido shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

“Good. So, you gonna ask Ohtori out and dump me?” It was much easier for them both if Taki brought it up. Shishido didn’t talk about emotional things, chiefly because he had the emotional maturity of a howler monkey.

Shishido ran his fingers through his long, lovely hair. Taki was going to miss that hair. “Probably. You gonna try for Hiyoshi?”

Damn, caught. Taki thought the staring at Oshitari’s ass would’ve blinded Ryou to his real interest. “Maybe. If he ever makes regulars.”

“He’s not gonna beat Choutarou, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Taki smiled, glad things weren’t going to be weird. “Want a bet?”

“How much?”

“A month’s supply of that conditioner Atobe uses.” Atobe had this really good conditioner that made your hair feel like molten sex. Taki once received a trial size in the mail and, while it was good enough to be addictive, Taki was not so privileged as to be able to afford the 5900 yen a bottle price tag.

“Deal.”

“And no stealing it from Atobe?”

“Nope.” Shishido’s nose twitched again.

Taki leaned over the table and placed a chaste kiss to Shishido’s forehead. “Then we’re agreed. The first kohai to make it to regulars will settle it.”

Shishido hooked his bangs behind his ears and straightened his ponytail. “You’re gonna be so jealous when my hair outshines yours on the courts.”

“Dream on shorty.” A half-naked college student passed the window and both Shishido and Taki’s necks craned to follow him. “And you say I’m bad,” Taki grumbled, finishing his vanilla latte and standing. “See ya ‘round, Ryou.”

Shishido was still looking out the window when Taki left.


	17. Marui and Renji (YanaBun)

Marui Bunta was a self-proclaimed tensai. There was an eighty-four percent probability that the whole tensai thing was an act and the boy was actually an idiot in other affairs.

“That answer’s wrong,” Marui said around a slice of cake.

“No, it’s not.” Renji swatted Marui away and continued with his calculus.

“You’re pretending that the x is cubed when it’s to the fourth power. Your answer is wrong.” Marui stood over Renji, dribbling crumbs. Disgusting.

“If you don’t mind, Marui-kun, I’m busy.”

“Whatever. See ya in class.” Marui left Renji on the lawn, huddled over his text.

Renji was not hitherto aware that Marui Bunta was in his calculus class. The likely reasoning for this was because Renji was too absorbed in thought to pay attention during roll or lessons. Yanagi Renji didn’t require an instructor for such simple calculations.

“Marui-kun, please pay attention!” Nagashita-sensei hollered, throwing an eraser at Marui’s head. The eraser missed, though the chalk dust did put a nice, inedible layer on Marui’s strawberry éclair. “What is the answer?” The board was filled with a complex equation. Renji already knew the answer, but that was because he’d already been through the textbook.

“4.284,” Marui yawned. “Or, -3.238 if you put the first term in brackets, which is probably what you wanted to do, right?” He popped another éclair into his mouth and snickered. “Pick harder stuff, sensei. This is boring.”

Renji was in love.


	18. Sengoku and Aoi (SenAoi)

“Look at all the girls!” Sengoku said through a mouth full of popcorn, no salt, extra butter.

“Yeah, lots of girls. A whole theater full of girls.” Kentarou stole some of the popcorn from Sengoku’s bucket, even though he had his own. If he took Kiyosumi’s, then there would be more left in his own bucket for the film.

“Wonder if we can get dates after the film.” Sengoku crunched on more popcorn as the two scouted the theater for the best seats, which were always in the back. You could see the screen best from the back.

“Probably. I’ve been winning games, so I should be able to get any girl I want.” Kentarou sat next to Sengoku, placing his bucket of popcorn in the seat to the other side. The theater was pretty empty, only twenty or so other patrons, so no one would mind Kentarou taking up the extra seat.

The previews began. The theater filled, but not completely. The audience consisted of mostly teenage girls, sitting in chattering clumps in the center of the theater.

“I hear the movie’s pretty good, even if it is a shoujo storyline,” Sengoku said, reaching across Kentarou to steal some popcorn. Kentarou’s had chili powder on it, not just boring butter.

“Whatever. There’re girls here, right?”

“Yeah.”

The movie was an overdramatic piece of fluff. All of the girls in the audience cried. Kentarou cried with them because he didn’t want to alienate himself from his future girlfriends. Sengoku smiled because a cheerful face is always welcome after a sad film.

Neither Kentarou nor Sengoku snagged a date with any of the patrons.

“So,” Kentarou said, wiping his butter-slick hands on his pants. “There’s a Powerhouse Love sequel out next week. Wanna go with me?”

Sengoku smiled and gave a thumbs up. “We’ll definitely get dates.”

“Definitely.”

“I’ll pick you up at the same time?” Sengoku entered the information into his ketai so he wouldn’t forget.

“Come a little before. Mom said she wants you over for dinner.” Kentarou hopped in place, excited at the prospect of having a friend for dinner who wasn’t on the team. Dinners with rivals was forbidden and the forbidden always sent a chill up Aoi’s spine, like the feeling he got when he won at tennis.

“We can stop by my house for dessert after we get our dates.” Sengoku made excellent cakes. He’d make one for Aoi and their dates. Girls liked cake.


	19. Mad Megane Money 1 (Seigaku)

According to his calculations, now that Inui was dating Kaidoh, his expenses were going to rise by 26.8%. Inui’s current allowance would not support both Inui’s juice-making and dating habits. Unwilling to give up either, Inui was forced to put himself to work.

The stand was a small card table stolen from the clubhouse closet. A paper sign taped to the front read “Advice, 100 yen per sentence of answer. 100% effective.”


	20. Mad Megane Money 2 (Seigaku)

Oishi sat down across from Inui. Oishi was concerned. “Do you need any help?” Oishi asked, his folded hands fidgeting on the tabletop.

“I was having some difficulties, but I am in control of the situation.” Inui wrote something in a notebook.

“Is there anything I can do to help you? I can lend you money if that’s the problem.” Oishi had a significant savings account. If he wanted to move out of the house after high school graduation, he had to start planning now. Eiji certainly wasn’t going to be saving any money. He spent his allowance on designer shoelaces and milkshakes.

“I am managing and merely taking precautionary measures, but I appreciate your concern.” Inui made another mark in his notebook.

“Is this about Kaidoh?” Oishi was fairly certain everything Inui did had to do with Kaidoh these days. Inui was the obsessive type, which was going to get him landed in jail if he wasn’t careful in the future. Inui’d already been arrested for invasion of privacy twice, both times after spying on Momoshiro’s family. Momoshiro said he had dreams of Inui killing him in the night. “If something’s going on, you can tell me. I won’t let anyone else know.”

Inui looked back and forth from his notebook, to Oishi, then back. He adjusted his glasses. He began. “Item one, I am concerned that I will be unable to provide Kaidoh with the standard dating accoutrements and, as such, I must acquire more funds. If I work in this fashion until the end of the term, I estimate that I will, after placing the funds in a secure, high-interest investment, be 27% successful in acquiring enough to purchase Kaidoh’s dream home after high school graduation. I am uncertain whether he would like a cat or a dog and cannot calculate the cost for pets until he shows a preference. Though cats require a larger initial investment, dogs have a higher ongoing cost and a higher depreciation of value. I, myself, would enjoy a cat or a lizard, but Kaidoh doesn’t enjoy reptiles, so the lizard is not an option.” Inui flipped to a page in his notebook, showing Oishi a bar graph with a chibi Kaidoh drawing next to it. The chibi Kaidoh was wearing an apron and holding a feather duster.

“Ah, Inui, should you be showing me your data?” Oishi didn’t want to dwell on the fact that he and Inui had the same sorts of drawings in their notebooks. The only difference was that Eiji wasn’t wearing shorts or a t-shirt in Oishi’s drawings. Of course, Kaidoh’s droopy tank top and – were those hotpants? – weren’t much better than nudity.

“This notebook is safe for public viewing.” Inui looked at his watch. “Practice will be starting in five minutes and I must be prepared to warm up with Kaidoh. That will be 700 yen, please.”

“What!?”

Inui pointed to the sign at the front of the booth. “Seven sentences of reply to direct inquiries, 100 yen per sentence, that’s 700 yen, please.”


	21. Echizen and Kirihara (Various)

“Yukimura-buchou can shoot lasers out of his eyes.”

“No he can’t. Tezuka-buchou has laser vision. His megane are especially made to keep the lasers under control.”

“Liar. You stole that from X-Men. Sanada-fukubuchou can bend steel beams with his bare hands, then chew on them to sharpen his teeth.”

“That’s Superman, you red-eyed freak. Oishi-fukubuchou’s Moon Volley was used to send objects into space.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Yukimura-buchou could still beat Tezuka, though. Yukimura-buchou can read minds.”

“He couldn’t beat Tezuka-buchou’s laser vision.”

“He so could. Telepathy always wins.”

“Mada mada da ne.”

“Whatever. You’re just pissed because you’re short.”


	22. Mad Megane Money 3 (Seigaku)

Tezuka slapped a 5000 yen bill on the table. “Fuji Syusuke,” he said, and sat down, crossing his arms over his chest.

Inui consulted his notebook. Tezuka’s meaning was perfectly clear; he wanted to know how to go about dealing with Fuji Syuusuke’s constant overtures. Fifty sentences wasn’t really enough to explain the ball of quietly concealed crazy that was Fuji, but Inui would give it his best efforts. Tezuka would make him run laps to exhaustion if he didn’t and, according to calculations, Inui would run out of stamina twenty minutes after he was due for training with Kaidoh.

“My first suggestion is to invite Fuji to play tennis on the weekend. Be sure to inform him that the match will be friendly and that no score will be kept or he will feel as if you are merely using him to further your game. Avoid making him feel used at all costs.”

Tezuka nodded and wrote the instructions down on a small steno pad.

Inui adjusted his glasses. They weren’t falling, but Tezuka’s full attention was a little much to bear at times. Inui cleared his throat. “Do not let Fuji win and do not go easy on him. If you do, you will have wasted your afternoon.”

Tezuka nodded again.

“Do not bring up Yuuta. If Yuuta is mentioned, do not engage the topic. Fuji will take that as interest and will assume that your interest in his family is a sign of interest in him. Along the same lines, do not mention or engage in conversation about Mizuki. Fuji will assume you mean to assist him in battle in the near future.” Inui re-checked his notebook. “Do not flat-out reject him. There is an 89% chance he will do you physical harm if you do.”

Tezuka nodded. The hand holding his pen was shaking slightly.

“Do not mention Atobe. Fuji will take that as an invitation to kill him for injuring you. Do not mention Sanada or Yukimura. He will assume that the conversation is leading to a marriage proposal.”

Tezuka dropped his pen.

“On this outing, do not wear your lavender shirt.” Inui thought that spoke for itself. “Do, however, make sure you tuck your shirt in to prevent any flaring during the match. Fuji will assume this flaring is a mating display.” Inui rustled through the back portion of his notebook, where his kept various relationship information. “If you are interested in Fuji but wish to take things slowly, it would behoove you to tell him so. It will ease his nerves and his inappropriate touching in the locker-room should decrease by 14%,” Judging from Tezuka’s blush, he was unaware that Inui knew about Fuji’s stealth groping. Of course Inui knew, he gave Fuji the information on the most effective methodology.

Inui checked his counter; 21 sentences down. He removed 29 yen from the lunchpail he was using as a till.

“What’s this? I paid for fifty.”

Inui’s lips slid upward into the smile Kaidoh said could scare paint off walls. “Any other information that is relevant to the situation I am contractually obligated against giving you. My apologies.”

“Fuji is blackmailing you.”

Inui slapped the money into Tezuka’s hand. “It is not such a simple thing as that. Thank you for your patronage.”

“Inui.” Tezuka’s left eyebrow was ticking. “You did not obtain clearance from Ryuzaki to put your booth on tennis club property. Twenty laps.”

Tucking his till and notebooks under his arm, Inui began jogging around the courts, glad he’d accepted the 5000 yen Fuji offered to sucker Tezuka into a mystery date.


	23. Slumming It (AtoShishi)

Blue jeans were the most uncomfortable contraptions in textile history. No wonder they were a favored item among the peasants.

“Bend your knees,” Shishido told Atobe, failing to hold in his laughter even though Atobe told him the deal was off if he laughed.

“How can ore-sama bend his knees when he’s wearing pants made of cardboard?” Atobe kicked out his leg, amazed that there wasn’t a ringing sound as his stiff jeans belled back and forth.

“The team’s waiting. Hurry up.” Shishido’s laughter had died down to the occasional snicker.

Atobe walked to the door on his tip toes, which was all the extra-long jeans would allow. He felt like an idiot. He probably looked like one.

“You look like an idiot walking that way. Just relax.” Shishido demonstrated a “relaxed” walk that looked more like a lemur with an upset stomach.

“Ore-sama walks perfectly fine, Ryou.” Atobe tried to sashay out the door and tripped on the hem of his pants.

“Yeah, just fine,” Shishido laughed, hopping over Atobe’s prone form and out the door before Atobe could kill him.


	24. Quarter-circle Back (Shitaki)

“It’s quarter-circle right, then kick,” Shishido said, his fingers flying over the PS2 controller.

“Why can’t we just go play billiards or something? You like billiards, right?” Taki stared at the game controller with contempt. He didn’t play video games. Video games were for people who couldn’t read.

“We did that yesterday, now shut up and quarter-circle right.” Shishido demonstrated the move again, a blast of ki flying out of the hands of the blue cloaked figure on the screen.

Shishido insisted they play a tag-team fighter game. Shishido got to level 17 without dying. Taki was able to make it past stage 1 of level 1. There were 4 stages per level. Taki tried the move again. The character did a back flip then spun, a rotating saw blade replacing his legs.

“Awesome!” Shishido leaned over and hugged Taki across the shoulders. “I knew you’d get the hang of this. We can go to expert mode now.”

“Great,” Taki sighed. Tomorrow, they were going to go to a jazz house. Shishido hated jazz. The thought of Shishido, surrounded by beatniks and goth-wannabes was enough to get Taki through another hour of quarter-circles.


	25. Secret Lives of the Golden Pair (Seigaku)

It really pissed Kikumaru off when people expected him and Oishi to be making out at every opportunity. Kikumaru didn’t want to make out at tennis practice, he wanted to play tennis. “What!?” he asked Momo, who was standing across the net, grinning like an idiot instead of serving.

“I heard you and Oishi-senpai closed the clubroom alone yesterday.” Momo wiggled his eyebrows and did that crazy laugh, the one that really needed a curly moustache to not be completely dumb.

“He needed help taking inventory of the tennis balls. Serve already.” Kohai should be more respectful. Kikumaru was going to speak to Tezuka-buchou about Momo, or maybe Echizen. Ochibi could just crush Momo in a practice game and the matter would be dealt with.

“So, how many did you count?” Momo was still laughing.

“Oishi and I do not have sex in the clubhouse!” Kikumaru yelled, throwing his racket to the ground.

Around the courts, silence fell.

“Kikumaru, Momoshiro, thirty laps!” Tezuka called.

Kikumaru stuck his tongue out at Momo and began running. Stupid Momo and his stupid dirty mind. Now Oishi was going to be embarrassed, particularly since Inui was writing all of this down in that stupid notebook of his. Hopefully Inui wouldn’t ask if Oishi and Kikumaru needed “advice” again.


	26. Pretentious Bastards or A Day at the Symphony with Shishido (Hyoutei)

“I’m not an idiot,” Shishido grumbled, staring at the ground so he wouldn’t kick Oshitari in the shins.

“My apologies. I was just surprised to find you here.” Oshitari looked not the least bit apologetic.

Shishido liked the symphony, even before he met Choutarou, who had season tickets and liked it when his Shishido-san went with him on the weekend. “Just because I don’t run around the courts, crooning like a lovesick idiot doesn’t mean that I don’t like music.” Oshitari’s shin was right there, ripe for kicking. Atobe would get pissed, though. Atobe seemed to think that Oshitari had talent. Whatever.

“I thought the third movement was striking.” Oshitari’s voice was a slow drawl, like a rolling bass drum. He was testing Shishido.

“I wasn’t impressed,” Shishido said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The first violin was off and the second clarinet was sharp, so the Andante wasn’t emphasized to the maximum effect before the transition to the forte.” Shishido grinned at Oshitari’s slack jaw. “The second movement was strong, though. The flutes were spot on and the conductor handled that bastard oboe player, who sounded like he wanted to take a solo.”

“I…yes, that’s exactly what I though,” Oshitari said, adjusting his glasses. “If you’ll excuse me, intermission is nearly over and I should get back to my seat.

Shishido gave a little wave and strolled back to his seat, glaring at anyone who thought his khakis and hoody weren’t good enough. It was his best hoody, which was plenty good enough for these pretentious bastards.


	27. Ritual Discipline (Sanayuki)

Yukimura is aware as he sits at the table, waiting while his father reads a letter from the school guidance councilor, that he should be more contrite. He’ll probably be suspended from tennis for a week for this. He doesn’t care, though. The jerk deserved it.

“Care to explain?” Yukimura-san waves the letter in the air. His voice is soft, but that just means he’s extra angry. This is isn’t the first time this has happened.

Yukimura tries to think of something to say that won’t sound like teen drama. Of course, this is teen drama, so all his attempts fail. “He called me a girl,” he says, figuring it the least offensive way to phrase the situation.

“And that is your excuse?” Yukimura-san is still waving the letter in the air.

Yukimura’s actual excuse is that the guy called him a girl in front of Sanada. Yukimura had just convinced Sanada that no one would care if they occasionally held hands in the hallway. Now everything was ruined, including the heckler’s nose. “Yes,” Yukimura says when his father slaps the note onto the table.

“Seiichi, consider your future. This incident, as well as all the others, could jeopardize your chances of getting into a good school. Do you want that?” Yukimura-san’s face has gone slack. He’s tired of yelling - he wore himself out last week, when Seiichi was sent home for hitting a tennis ball into someone’s shin – and hungry because this discussion has delayed dinner.

Yukimura doesn’t care about getting into a good school. He’ll go wherever he can play tennis and wherever Sanada goes. Those are the two requirements, everything else be damned. “I’m sorry.” He isn’t, though, and his father can tell.

“Don’t let it happen again.” The words are moving from the two, the closing rites of their weekly ceremony.

“Yes, father.” Seiichi bows and exhales. As long as his parents don’t find out why he really hit his sensei, everything will be fine.


	28. Baking for Buchou (Seigaku)

The cake, while not exactly what Echizen had expected, didn’t look all that bad. It wasn’t very round – Echizen forgot to grease the pan so he had to pry the cake out with a knife – and it was tan-ish instead of the pretty yellow on the mix box, but it was probably edible.

Probably.

“Karupin!” Echizen scraped a piece of the cake off the pan. “Karupin!”

Karupin sniffed Echizen’s hand then turned up his nose and trotted away.

“Stupid cat.” With unsteady hands, Echizen brought the cake to his mouth.

He spit it out. He’d buy one from the store. He couldn’t give Tezuka-buchou a welcome back cake made of sand. Fuji-senpai would kill him.


	29. Helping Hands (Tezufuji)

It started at the bottom of his spine and worked its way up. He ignored it.

“Ne Tezuka, are you okay?” Fuji smiled like he knew. He probably did.

“I’m fine.” Tezuka’s hands were at his sides, balled into fists inside his jersey. Practice would be over in half an hour. He would take care of things then.

“I can help you.” While Tezuka was focusing on not making a fool of himself in public, Fuji slid up behind him and began whispering in his ear. Echizen was staring.

“I do not require help.” His hands twitched. Fuji’s hand was sliding across his lower back.

Then, Fuji scratched. “You sure?”

Tezuka’s knees were sinking, despite his best intentions. Just a little higher. “I do not appreciate…”

“You fell into poison ivy, Tezuka, stop being silly and let me help you.” Fuji’s nails moved vigorously across the length of Tezuka’s back.

“Fine.” Tezuka’s eyes moved over the courts. The team was staring. “Twenty laps!”

“Do you want me to go, too?” Fuji asked, halting his scratching.

“You are required here,” Tezuka said, unable to keep the needy keen out of his voice. The itching was back.


	30. It Came from Inside the Locker (Rikkai)

In Jackal’s locker, there were three shrunken heads. Jackal said they were the heads of rival tennis players that he’d slain after victory on the court.

Brazil was a rough place to grow up, Kirihara supposed.

Next to the shrunken heads, Jackal kept a ceremonial dagger and a small doll made of different colored hairs. He said that the dagger was used to behead the enemy. The doll was made from one hair of every opponent Jackal defeated.

Kirihara was never going to play a match against Jackal-senpai. Ever.

Behind the shrunken heads, dagger, and hair doll was a small, neon-green bento. That was Marui-senpai’s. Jackal kept it safe because Marui’s locker was full of bubblegum wrappers. Marui’s lunches were the best because Marui-senpai made them himself and Marui-senpai was the best cook in the world.

“Jackal-senpai, Marui-senpai said I could have a taste of his special curry today.” Kirihara looked up at his senpai with all the innocence he could muster.

“The heads know when you’re lying and will bite your fingers if you try to get past them,” Jackal said, grinning. He patted Kirihara on the head. “But, since you’re telling the truth, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll just leave you to it.” Jackal grabbed his racquet and left for practice.

Kirihara stared at the heads, debating. Jackal-senpai could be lying. Of course, this was Jackal-senpai and he was the most reliable person on the team. He would never lie.

Also the eyes of the heads were following Kirihara around the room. Better to leave the bento be.


	31. Sengoku and the Mystery of the Missing Pants (Kajimoto/Sengoku)

“Kiyosumi, your friend’s here!”

Sengoku blinked out of his afternoon nap. He should probably put some pants on. “Give me a sec!” he called, sitting up enough to realize that the pants he wanted were not on the floor where he left them.

“Right this way,” he heard his mother say. A too-soft voice answered and Sengoku was unable to determine the identity of his mystery visitor.

It didn’t really matter who was visiting if he couldn’t find his pants. “Mom! Did you take my laundry?” He stood, hoping the pants were tangled in his covers or under the bed. No luck.

“His room’s down the hall,” his mother said, not having heard a word. “Just go right in.”

“Thank you.”

Sengoku froze. He knew that voice. It was the voice that haunted him all Senbatsu. It belonged to the boy who refused to take no for an answer, not even the twentieth time. Not even after Sengoku tested out a boxing move on his nose.

Sengoku really needed those pants.

Kajimoto opened the door and smiled. “It’s good to see you, too, Kiyosumi-kun.” He shut the door. He locked it. “Your mother asked that I deliver these to you while we’re here studying.” His eyes traveled up and down Sengoku’s pale, exposed thighs. “We’ll begin with anatomy.”


	32. To be a Man (Kajimoto/Wakato)

Kajimoto Takahisa believes that you do not have to dress like a slob to be a man. Wakato shares his belief, but doesn’t understand that dressing like a whore is also not required for manhood.

All you need to be a man is a tennis racquet and wins.

Kajimoto has the racquet. He’s working on the wins now.

His time at Jyousei was disappointing, so he’s opted to enter high school at a small, no name academy. It has a tennis team, but not a seeded team. It has a coach, but the coach also oversees three other teams, two of which are girls' teams. In the locker room after practice, coach tries to get Kajimoto to sign up for one of the girls’ teams. He says no one will know the difference.

It is during one of these afternoon discussions that Wakato, who followed Kajimoto because he had nothing better to do and “Bishie is better in pairs,” walked in to find the coach’s hand traveling across Kajimoto’s naked backside. For Kajimoto, this is routine. For Wakato, this is war.

“You’re the best player on the team. You don’t have to let him blackmail you,” Wakato says while they walk to the train station. They both live far from the school, Wakato more so than Kajimoto, and ride together after school for company.

Kajimoto doesn’t try to explain that this is what life is about. Wakato wouldn’t understand. He’s never been captain. Kajimoto nods, taking out a manga to read. It’s a romance and Wakato will mock him for it, but that’s also part of being captain.

“I wrote a note to the administration about it. It shouldn’t happen again.” Wakato gives Kajimoto’s arm a squeeze then pretends like he hasn’t done it.

“They won’t do anything,” Kajimoto says, still reading his manga. Youhei and Kouhei tried to stop Hanamura once to no effect. You couldn’t stop the administration. You just had to keep winning and, maybe one day, you would be free.

Wakato slaps him hard across the cheek. “You don’t even care, do you?” Wakato’s mouth moves, little gasps and growls come out, but nothing else.

Kajimoto looks up from his manga, barely having registered the stinging of his cheek. “Not really,” he says, shrugging. He’s used to it. Why should he care? He tried escape and was just getting more of the same.

Wakato hit him with his school bag. “No wonder you lose. You can’t win if you’re ready to give up from the beginning.” The school bag falls and Wakato, heedless of the staring of old women and salarymen, folds Kajimoto in a hug.

Kajimoto drops his manga. His vision goes blurry and his eyes sting. Slowly, he wraps his arms around Wakato, returning the hug because it feels warm and good, like winning.


	33. Incentive (Maruihara)

It was just sitting there, waiting to be eaten. It was going to melt and its strawberry goodness would be wasted.

"Senpai, you're supposed to be doing math, not looking at my snacks." Kirihara pulled the box of Pocky closer to his own textbook. "Now study."

Marui didn't appreciate being reprimanded by a curly-haired know it all who was, himself, only getting B's in his subjects.

"If you're not going to eat it, then you should let me have it," Marui said, pointing to the neglected Pocky.

"Study, senpai." Kirihara turned his attention to his books, jotting notes down in handwriting that looked more like abstract art than anything else.

If he timed it right, Kirihara would never notice the Pocky was gone. Marui waited, staring dumbly at the numbers and theorems that he was allegedly learning.

Kirihara was sure cute when he nibbled on his pencil like that.

Nibbling.

Pocky.

Sweet, sweet strawberry Pocky, chased with a vanilla soda. Yeah.

“Senpai, you’re not studying.”

Something hit Marui’s head and clunked against his textbook. There, in the crease of the book sat a lone stick of Pocky.

“Only one,” Kirihara said, a stick dangling out of his mouth. “You can have another one after you finish the practice problems.”

Marui threw himself into his math work and was done in ten minutes.


	34. The Dangers of Cosplay (D1)

Everyone knows about and accepts Niou’s cosplay issues. This is going too far, though.

“Take the hat off, please” Yagyuu says. He is sitting on the floor, head held in his hands. He wants to go home. He is hungry and his mother bought a watermelon for dinner. He loves watermelon. But no, he’s here, sitting on the floor of the clubroom because Yukimura expects him to talk some sense into Niou…before they leave.

They are locked in. Yukimura has the key.

Niou laughs and points to the door. “Laps, now!” This is the twenty-third time he’s said it. Yagyuu is beginning to feel like Yanagi, keeping useless data.

“No laps. Give me the hat, please.” Very soon Yagyuu is going to stop saying please.

Niou poses, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at Yagyuu. “You dare oppose me, Sanada Genichirou, the Lord of Tennis?”

Yagyuu declines to say that Niou looks no more like Sanada than a Siamese cat looks like a Chihuahua. Niou is the Chihuahua, sharp nosed and yapping, yapping, yapping. “Mr. Lord of Tennis, I humbly request your presence, without hat, at the south window. I very, very humbly request that you place your hat in the basket near the window and raise it on the string provided. I request that you do this so that we both might live to see tomorrow.” An idea comes. “Yukimura would want you to take your hat off.”

“Seiichi?”

Yagyuu can hear a crackling outside. It’s probably Yukimura calling a storm to smite Niou for using his given name, which only Sanada is allowed to do. Electrocution isn’t such a bad way to go, really. “Yes, Yukimura-buchou.”

Niou removes the hat and puts it in the basket. As soon as the basket is out of sight, hauled up and out the window, Niou blinks and a sly smiled traces across his lips. “That was cool. You should feel the power in that hat.” He touches his hat-hair. “I can still feel it.”

Yagyuu moves to the door and slips out as Yukimura storms in. Tonight, Yagyuu will have watermelon. Tomorrow, he’ll look for a temporary doubles partner while Niou recovers from Yukimura ‘making an example of him.’


	35. Sanada and Kaidou (Sanada/Kaidou)

Kaidoh didn’t expect his usual training bench to be occupied. It was never occupied, much less by the enemy.

“Move.” Kaidoh looks down at Sanada with all the imposing dignity he can muster, even though he knows Sanada can crush him with a single thought.

“I am stretching in a public park. You can wait your turn.” Sanada, his feet on the bench, continues to do push-ups.

Kaidoh glances at his watch. He’s going to be late if Sanada doesn’t hurry it up. Kaidoh’s heart rate is already too low. “You’re messing up my training schedule. Move.”

Sanada’s lips curl in a sneer as if to say, “who do you think you’re talking to?”

Snarling, Kaidoh shoves Sanada off the bench and begins his warm-ups.

Sanada shoves him, in turn and the two scuffle on the ground. Sanada wins, pinning Kaidoh's arms to the concrete. “Do not interrupt my training.”

Kaidoh hisses. His heart rate is back up and the tussle sufficiently worked his upper body. Muscles he didn’t know he had are sore. “Don’t take my practice spot tomorrow,” he says at last, jogging in place to get his legs warmed up. He’ll skip the bench work and start his run now.

“I’ll do as I please.”

Hiss. “I’m warning you.”

“Whatever.” Sanada continues his pushups, smiling a different smile.

The smile would look cute if it weren’t on a total ass.

Kaidoh jogs out of the park, determined to reclaim his territory the next day.


	36. Electric (Fudomine)

“Did you know that, even when we’re touching, we’re not really touching?”

It was something Shinji said the summer before Tachibana came. For Kamio, it encapsulated everything that was Ibu, there and beautiful, but never able to be touched, even in the dark, when the two huddled close under Kamio’s blankets because the heat had been turned off and Kamio’s mom couldn’t afford to turn it on again until next payday.

“We feel like we’re touching because electrons are giving off various stimuli, but really all they’re doing is repelling on another so, when we feel resistance, we’re feeling electrons pressing against each other.”

A wall, an invisible wall that Kamio couldn’t get through, no matter how hard he pushed. That’s what it was like, living with Shinji.

Tachibana could break through that wall, though, if he wanted to. He didn’t, which is why, even though Kamio fetches Tachibana’s lunches and follows around after him like he’s the greatest thing in the world, Kamio hates Tachibana, just a little.

If it were up to Kamio, he’d transfer schools and be done with it all. He doesn’t want to come home tired from practice and emotional drama that could easily be avoided if his idiot teammates just talked instead of pretending that fourth place is fine and there’s nothing they can do.

Kamio doesn’t want to be fourth place, not to Ibu’s issues, not to Tachibana’s pride, not to anything.

“Isn’t that interesting, Akira, how we’re not really touching anything, just kind of floating. Science is depressing, don’t you think? It’s really interesting though….”


	37. In the Clouds (Kamio/Ibu)

“Check it out, it’s a snail,” Kamio said, pointing to the lone cloud puffing across the sky. The smog was thick, so the cloud was more brown-yellow than white, making the snail resemblance all the more vivid.

“It’s a cloud. I don’t see why you have to call it something else when it’s just a cloud.” Shinji stared at the snail-cloud and frowned. “If you were to call it anything, you should call it a pterodactyl.”

“But it’s a snail,” Kamio insisted.

“Pterodactyl.” Shinji shoved Kamio and he fell onto the grass.

“Snail.” Kamio kicked and Shinji was smacked into a muddy patch.

Shinji threw a clump of dirt at Kamio’s face. “Pterodactyl.”

“Snail!”

“Pterodactyl.”

Ten feet away, Tachibana stood, shaking his head and wondering when the two would realize that the cloud had vaporized.


	38. Fudomine Team Spirit (Fudomine)

Tachibana wasn’t used to team spirit. He was used to grabbing his racquet, playing tennis, and going home.

Hawaiian shirts were not part of Tachibana’s usual routine. Kamio looked cute in the coconut bra, though, and really seemed to enjoy the hula skirt.

Ibu was dressed as a pineapple and having difficulty standing because the frondy top was off balance, causing him to tip at random intervals.

“Tachibana-san, hurry or you’ll miss the photo!” Ishida waved wildly from inside his palm tree costume. He could only walk in a small shuffle, but seemed to be enjoying the cosplay nonetheless.

Tachibana didn’t want to take a photo in what was arguably the ugliest shirt known to man…with matching shorts. The print was pink and powder blue, which were Tachibana’s worst colors. Pink made him look jaundiced and powder blue made his ass look huge.

The team spent far too much time looking at his ass for Tachibana to risk it looking huge.


	39. Singing on the Courts (Kamio/Ibu)

There was no talking to Kamio when he was like this.

“I want you to color my woooooooooorld!” Kamio threw his arms out in his best Keita impression.

It was embarrassing, but there really wasn’t anything Shinji could do about it. Kamio liked to dance and sing stupid songs and that was part of what made him cute, but really, he shouldn’t be singing on the tennis courts, especially during practice. True, it was only against Ginka, and they sucked, but it was the principle of the thing.

“What the hell is he doing?” a spectator whispered. It was rude to talk during matches. Didn’t Ginka have any manners? Just because someone liked to sing, even if it was inappropriate during a match – and not even a real match, but a practice match – didn’t mean you could just start talking about him behind his back.

“Fudomine’s really weird. Is this part of that Rhythm stuff we heard about?” More whispering, it was really getting on Shinji’s nerves – his last one.

“If someone wants to sing, you should shut up and let them sing,” Shinji said, tapping a tennis ball on the side of his racquet. “If you don’t let people do stupid things, then they won’t realize how stupid they are. Echizen didn’t know that spinning in circles on the tennis court was stupid until he nearly lost his eye.” Shinji grinned at the memory. “Besides, Akira has a nice voice and Tachibana-san likes listening to him sing. You don’t want to upset Tachibana-san, do you?”

The Ginka members shook their heads and stepped back. “Scary,” one of them whispered. When the they were about ten feet away, they turned and fled, but Shinji didn’t care. Kamio’s game was almost done. The song was almost over, which was good because it was stuck in Shinji’s head now and really getting on his nerves. He’d make sure Kamio paid for getting the song stuck in his head, particularly when Shinji didn’t really care for music, much less that pop-y stuff that Kamio listened to. Why couldn’t he listen to classical? At least classical was sophisticated…


	40. Buchou of all Trades (Hyoutei)

“If the peasants can do this, then ore-sama should be perfectly adept at it,” Atobe said, wrench in hand, shadow looming over Gakuto’s crouching form.

“You’re going to fuck it up. I can take the bus. It’s no big deal.” Gakuto nibbled on his nails between words. The bike wasn’t even his; it was Yuushi’s, and Yuushi was going to pitch a fit if Gakuto brought the bike back broken.

Atobe twirled the wrench in his hand, nearly sending it flying into Gakuto’s face, but recovering and ending in what he imagined was a striking pose.

Gakuto thought Atobe looked like an idiot. Gakuto would never say this – Atobe would make Gakuto play doubles with Hiyoshi again if Gakuto said anything – but almost everything Atobe did was stupid to some degree. Yuushi said it was compensation.

“Hyoutei regulars do not ride the bus,” Atobe said, moving to the bike and unscrewing the wheel.

Apparently Atobe was unaware that Shishido rode the bus every day.

“Sure. Whatever. Just don’t break it, okay?” Gakuto closed his eyes through the sound of falling tires and popping rubber.

“Ore-sama no bigi ni yoi na!”

Gakuto could hear the sparkles flying from Atobe’s essence, feel the radiance of Atobe’s pose, burning through the back of his eyelids. Finally, Gakuto opened his eyes. His jaw promptly lost the will to close. “You…you did it!”

Atobe laughed in that infuriatingly snide way he did after he beat you 6-0, even though you really tried hard. “Of course. Ore-sama can do anything.”

Gakuto stared at the bike, gathered his composure, and said, “It was just changing a tire. It’s no big deal.” He was going to take the bus anyway. The tire might pop from all the hot air Atobe pumped into it.


	41. Breech of Etiquette (AtoShishi)

“I have been made aware of some things, Shishido.” Atobe tapped his pen in his hand while he reclined in his office chair.

“Did someone finally tell you that Santa Claus isn’t real? I’m sorry, Keigo. I was trying to protect you.” Shishido rolled his eyes. He was standing in front of Atobe’s ridiculously large desk in the Student Council room. He’d been called in for “disciplinary action.”

Atobe sighed and leaned forward, face grave. “You are in breech of Hyoutei’s code of conduct. I tried to pass it off as a temporary whim, but the situation has persisted for two months now and the Council cannot ignore it.”

“You mean I did something to piss you off and you’re using the Student Council as a cover, right?” Last time, Atobe used his power as Council president to make Shishido even out his hair, claiming it was “against regulations” to have a scrappy haircut. Like hell it was, look at Oshitari. The clock tower chimed six. “Look Atobe-sama, I gotta get ready for practice or you’ll make me run laps.”

“No more buses, Shishido.”

Halfway out the door, Shishido froze, then fell to the ground, clutching his stomach as he laughed. “The bus? This is about me taking the bus?” Tears fell from Shishido’s eyes and his stomach was beginning to hurt.

“This is a serious matter, Shishido. No more buses.”

It took Shishido five more minutes to regain the ability to breath regularly. Every time he thought he was recovered, he looked at Atobe’s grave expression and collapsed in another laugh fit. “No problem, Keigo, I’ll get rides with Choutarou. See ya!”

That afternoon, a pre-paid bus pass, good for one year, was placed in Shishido’s locker.


	42. Excel (Rikkai)

Sanada was staring at the computer with the intensity he usually reserved for tennis or someone who insulted Yukimura.

“What’s up Fukubuchou?” Kirihara trotted up and leaned on Sanada’s shoulder, peering at the screen. It was a blank Excel spreadsheet.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Sanada said, still glaring at the screen.

“Ooookay.” Kirihara took a step back. “So, you making a spreadsheet? Those’re cool. Yanagi-senpai showed me all about them last week.” Kirihara grinned, a little more dreamily than normal. “I got to help him organize his results from the time trial matches.”

In a rush, Sanada stood and pushed Kirihara into the chair he was previously occupying. “Here.” He shoved some crinkled papers into Kirihara’s hands. “Yukimura wants these logged and these numbers added by this afternoon. Yanagi is away on family business so you will do them.”

Kirihara adjusted the keyboard position to his liking and began typing. Wait ‘til Yanagi-senpai heard Sanada was a technophobe. He’d probably take Kirihara out for ice cream when he found out, then Kirihara could eat the ice cream in front of Marui-senpai and gloat because free ice cream was better than ice cream you paid for. Yanagi-senpai said so.


	43. Short Boys (Various)

“My, you’re a short little ball of bitterness, aren’t you?” Oshitari Kenya raised his eyebrow and had the nerve to laugh.

“Shut the hell up and play.” Shishido contemplated the implications of jabbing a pool cue into the bastard’s eye. He wouldn’t do it, though, because that would be mean to the pool cue. Who wanted to have an Oshitari all over them?

Oshitari leaned over the table, assessing the balls. “Two, right center pocket.” He shot and missed. In fact, in the twelve games they’d played, Oshitari had yet to hit a single ball he called.

“Look, you’ve lost 4000 yen already. Just give up so I can go home.” Shishido took a run of three balls before scratching. He scratched because Oshitari raised his shirt to wipe away sweat that wasn’t there.

“It’s warm in here, don’t you think. Let’s go to my cousin’s house. He has a pool.” Oshitari dropped his cue, grabbed Shishido’s wrist and tossed some money at the cashier on the way out. “Yuushi said billiards is fun, but he lied. I want to know if he lied about sex with short boys, too.”


	44. Finding It (Rikkai)

Yukimura was a serious person, full of serious, and someone was seriously going to be in trouble if his things weren’t returned to him in the next six minutes.

“Who has it?” Yukimura asked, tapping his foot and smiling because he was a nice person, even when thoroughly irritated.

“I didn’t do it!” Kirihara yelled when the team turned to him.

Yanagi adjusted his glasses. “There is only a 2% chance that you are telling the truth.”

“Shut up, senpai.” Kirihara’s stare promised death if Renji so much as laughed or called him ‘cute,’ as the data player was often wont to do.

“Someone took it, and I want it back.” Yukimura looked down the line of assembled regulars. “Niou, was it you?”

Niou frowned. “For once, no. Wish I’d thought of it, though.”

Yukimura’s foot tapping increased in pace. “We’re not going home until it’s returned.”

Shakily, Sanada stepped forward and whispered something in Yukimura’s ear.

Yukimura blinked. “Are you sure?”

Sanada whispered something else.

“Oh. I see.” A blush rose in Yukimura’s cheeks. “It would seem Genichirou is aware of the item’s location. Practice is over. Genichirou, you will stay to assist me in locating the item.”

The team left quickly, knowing better than to lag behind when Yukimura was demanding alone time with Sanada.

On the way out, Kirihara tugged on Renji’s sleeve. “Hey Yanagi-senpai, what was buchou missing?”

Yanagi coughed and put a hand to Kirihara’s back, hurrying him along. “I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he said, his cheeks a healthy shade of sakura pink.

“If it’s a sex thing then you’ve already told me about that, so what’s the big deal?”

Ahead of them, Niou stopped in his tracks and turned, his eyes flashing in the fading sun. “So, how much you gonna pay me to pretend I didn’t hear that?”


	45. Good Senpai (Hyoutei)

Choutarou was pretty sure Shishido-san was going to be upset about this. Shishido-san got upset when Choutarou didn’t use the changing stalls, so standing in front of everyone and changing was probably going to piss Shishido off.

Ohtori needed the money, though. He couldn’t ask his mom to give him money for Shishido’s birthday present, and his allowance for the week was already blown on a racquet stringing and some new shoes.

Mukahi-senpai’s offer was pretty reasonable, considering.

“Stand a little more to the left, Ohtori-kun,” Gakuto instructed, raising his camera. “This is the last picture left in the camera.” He turned to the rest of the “spectators” and said, “The rest of you have to go home when my camera runs out. Those’re the rules. And don’t forget to tip Choutarou, he’s trying to buy some stupid birthday present for Shishido.” The last picture snapped. “And if you don’t tip him well, I’m gonna tell Shishido who each of you are and where you live.”


	46. Ore-sama no Emergency! (AtoShishi)

At approximately a quarter past 6 in the morning, Atobe locked himself in the bathroom and refused to come out. It wouldn’t have been a problem had the bathroom been his own and not Shishido’s. It wouldn’t have been a problem if it weren’t the only bathroom in the house.

From the hall, Shishido could hear muffled cursing and the clanking of bottles. “Are you trying to make a bomb out of hair care products or something? I tried when I was seven and you can’t so get the hell out of there.” Shishido banged on the door with his fist. Luckily, his father was already at work and his mother already showered. His brother was going to be up soon, though, and then Shishido would never hear the end of it.

“Ore-sama is having a crisis, Shishido. Be more compassionate.”

Shishido rolled his eyes and banged on the door again. “What is it this time? A split end? A hangnail?” Last time Atobe locked himself in the bathroom, he discovered that he had an ingrown hair in his right eyebrow. No one was allowed to see him until his family beautician removed the hair and gave Atobe a facial to remove the redness.

Shishido felt a tap on his shoulder. “Hey Ryou, is her highness going to be in there much longer? I gotta pee.”

“Shut up.” Shishido shoved his brother, who shoved back. Soon, the brothers were laughing and trying to break one another’s arms.

“Shishido, are you listening to me!?” The bathroom door flung open to reveal Atobe, hand covering his forehead. “Stop being an imbecile and come help me.”

Shishido’s brother had the grace to leave, though he did so with a, “yes, your majesty” and a courtly bow. Shishido kicked him for that.

“What’s wrong, Atobe?”

Atobe removed his hand. Shishido laughed.

“A zit? You threw that tantrum for a zit?” Shishido’s cackling rung down the hall, summoning the dog, who was more than happy to lick at the wet spot on Atobe’s leg.

Atobe kicked the dog away and stormed back into the bathroom, locking the door.


	47. Demon (Rikkai)

Kirihara looked at his hand, wrapped in pink-tinged bandages that, moments before, were a bright white.

It wasn’t fair.

He tried his best and this was farthest he got; some bandages and a pat on the head from Yukimura-buchou, telling him to try harder next time and couldn’t he work on his rising backhand for next week’s practice match?

He was pretty sure his finger was broken from trying to return Sanada’s stupid serve.

“Akaya, if you don’t leave it alone, it will never heal.” Yanagi-senpai looked up from a temporary training list Sanada drafted. “We wouldn’t want it injured for the practice matches, would we?”

Screw the practice matches. Kirihara shouldered his tennis bag and walked sedately out of the clubroom. “Sure senpai. I’ll be careful.”

Yanagi smiled. “Good.”

He’d show them all, though. He’d take a game against Yanagi-senpai, then Sanada, then Yukimura. Just one game would be fine to show them that he wasn’t as weak as the others, that he had what it took to lead Rikkai to nationals next year.

Kirihara wanted to be a Demon because, at Rikkai, only Demons prospered.


	48. Cold (OshiGaku)

Atobe was a freak of nature so the air conditioning in the regulars’ changing room was always on. Always. In the middle of a beautiful summer day, the air conditioning caused small icicles to fall from the changing benches. Gakuto, being of a smaller build, had difficulty retaining body heat as it was. The air conditioning didn’t help.

“Hey Yuushi, c’mere.”

Oshitari complied with Gakuto’s request, despite the fact that he was dressed in only his warm-up pants and faired little better than Gakuto in the cold. “Yes?” he drawled, standing in front of Gakuto and smiling. He couldn’t resist. Gakuto’s petulant face was one of his favorites.

“Sit down and warm me up so I can get dressed.”

Oshitari’s eyes flew wide and then he licked his lips. “If you insist.” He slid onto the bench and pulled Gakuto onto his lap.

“Hey!” Shishido called, throwing a towel at the pair. “Cut that out.”

“Uhs,” Kabaji said, turning his back to them.

Oshitari wrapped an arm around Gakuto and raised his nose at his teammates. “Gakuto requires assistance and this is, technically, not snuggling. The Snuggle Ban does not apply.”

Shishido ran off to tell Atobe. Oshitari resolved to have Gakuto thoroughly warmed before the diva got there.


	49. The View (Inukai)

Playing doubles was definitely worth the effort. Even though Inui was exhausted and collapsed on the ground, cloudless sky blaring bright above him, the effort was worth it.

“Here senpai.” Kaidoh extended his hand out and leaned over, blocking out the sun.

Inui didn’t reach for the hand. Instead, he continued to catch his breath and stare up.

Kaidoh moved forward again. “Senpai, they need the court for the next match.”

Kaidoh’s shorts fluttered in a slight breeze and Inui was glad for his megane for perhaps the fifth time in his life.

Yes, doubles was definitely worth the effort.


	50. The Great Debate (Hyoutei)

“It’s dyed,” Hiyoshi said, speaking with an authority that he had not earned and, in Ohtori’s opinion, was not likely to earn soon.

“It’s natural,” Ohtori said between bites of the bento Shishido’s mother sent him. Shishido’s mother thought Choutarou was too thin and sent extra food with Shishido to give to him, which was nice since Ohtori’s mother wasn’t a very good cook.

Oshitari walked over and pushed his glasses up his nose. “You’re shouting,” he told Hiyoshi, whose spine visibly ruffled.

“I’m glad you came, Oshitari-senpai.” Ohtori smiled up at his senpai, knowing that, no matter what happened, Hiyoshi would get the blame because cute little Choutarou couldn’t do anything wrong. “Mukahi-senpai’s hair. It’s natural, right?”


	51. Grace (OshiGaku)

“Why are we doing this?” Gakuto asked. His foot was sore because Yuushi didn’t know a fox trot from a waltz.

“Your acrobatics lack style,” Atobe said from his position next to the CD Player. “Ore-sama will not have you looking like a one-legged duck on the tennis courts. It’s demeaning.”

Oshitari fell, tripping over an untied shoelace. “My apologies, Gakuto. I appear to have two left feet.” Yuushi didn’t have two left feet, he had stubs where feet once were and he was trying to hobble around and look normal.

“Can’t we just give up?” Gakuto asked. His feet hurt and he hated Atobe even more than the previous day, when Atobe tried to convince Gakuto that his bangs were unattractive. Yuushi liked Gakuto’s bangs, so there wasn’t a reason to change them. Of course, Yuushi wasn’t proving to be a very reliable individual.

“You may,” Atobe said, leafing through a CD wallet. “You’ll be dropped, but you may give up.”

Gakuto glared at Oshitari before grabbing his partner’s hands and placing them on his shoulders. “I don’t care if you’re taller, I’m leading this time.”


	52. Intimate Information (Hyoutei)

“What’s Oshitari’s favorite color?” Hiyoshi asked. He was planning to buy a peace offering in hopes that Oshitari would ignore the fact that Hiyoshi used his jersey to clean up a juice spill yesterday. It was the closest thing. Really.

“I dunno, ask him.”

The lockeroom fell silent.

“What!?” Jirou screamed, launching off the bench on which he was resting and lunging forward to grab the collar of Gakuto’s jersey. “What do you mean you don’t know? You have to know!”

Gakuto shook free and went to get an energy bar from his locker. “Why?”

“You play doubles. You have to know everything about eachother,” Jirou insisted, shuffling up behind Gakuto.

“I’m not a Yuushi stalker like those creepy fangirls at our matches. I don’t have to know his favorite color if I don’t want to.” Gakuto ripped into his energy bar, chewing loudly and with his mouth open.

Jirou yawned and went back to his bench. “You’re a horrible doubles partner. No wonder you lose.”

Gakuto glared at Jirou’s sleeping form, then threw his wrapper. The wrapper landed on Jirou’s hair and stuck. Atobe would be pissed, but the photo would be taken and Gakuto out of the room before anyone was the wiser.

“It’s blue,” Gakuto told Hiyoshi as he ran out of the room. “Royal blue.”


	53. Cleanup (Tango)

“You missed a spot.”

“Ore-sama did not miss anything. Your vision is clearly in need of correction.” Atobe tugged the kerchief covering his lovely hair from this common filth he was forced to remove.

“I said you missed a spot.”

Atobe’s grip on the mop tightened. “Ore-sama did not miss a spot, as he has now had to point out two times because your stunted intellect is incapable of processing simple information.” Atobe moved to storm out of the small kitchen, but was blocked. “This is all your fault, you finish.”

“I wasn’t the one who threw the udon all over the table.”

“Ore-sama did not throw the udon onto the table. That pathetic excuse for dishware slipped because it was overglazed.” Atobe put the mop away and began to stride out of the kitchen.

He slipped three steps from the door.

“I told you, you missed a spot,” Sanada said, stepping over Atobe’s fallen form and out the door.


	54. Sweets (Maruihara)

Niou halted in his business of strategically laying down banana skins on the sidewalk when he saw a familiar scraggle of black hair sneaking into Akina’s Sweet Shoppe.

“I’m looking for a present for my girlfriend. She likes candy.” Kirihara looked as comfortable as a snake dancing in front of a mongoose.

“Hey Akaya!” Niou couldn’t help but enter the shop, slapping Kirihara on the back with unnecessary force. “Go for the chocolates. They’re a classic.”

Kirihara was holding back a growl. It was really cute, if you went in for kouhai, which Niou didn’t. Niou saw the big, red welts on Marui’s neck where Kirihara’s ridiculously sharp canines dug in. Niou was a freak, but not that kind of freak.

“I got chocolates last time. I can’t do that again. This has to be special.” Kirihara smiled at the sales lady when she came back, holding a cookie flower bouquet. “That’s great!”

“Should I wrap it?” the sales lady asked, winking at Niou. “For your girlfriend?”

Kirihara frowned. “No thanks, I’ll do it at home.” He handed her money and all but ran out of the store. “Let’s go senpai, I don’t want anyone knowing I was here.”

“Yeah, sure.” Niou looked down at Kirihara with one eye. The other was watching the lady in the store pick up the phone. She was probably ecstatic about meeting Marui-kun’s adorable boyfriend, the one Marui never stopped talking about.


	55. Reject (D1)

“I don’t see why I wasn’t invited,” Yagyuu said, crossing his arms over his chest and settling in for a good sulk.

“Because they’re insecure,” Niou said. Every month they went through the same song and dance and every month the situation never changed. Yagyuu should get over it and start his own damn club.

“I’m just as good as they are.”

“Like I said, they’re insecure because, no matter the situation, total Rikkai domination is inevitable. Just ask Yukimura-buchou. They left him out of the Buchou Council Ice Cream Social last month. You don’t see him having a hissy fit.”

“He burned the restaurant down.”

Niou moved to the couch and patted Yagyuu on the head. “See, that’s productive. Why don’t you just go burn down Tezuka’s house, since he won’t let you join the Megane Club?”

“Maybe I will.”

Niou’s smile was very reminiscent of Sanada’s, just before he thwapped you on the head with a high speed tennis ball. “You know I’ll always be here if you need me.”


	56. History (Rikkai)

Kirihara understood that school was important in the same way he was aware that breathing was important; it was something he did because he had to and it made his mother happy.

“Kirihara-kun, would you please read aloud?”

Kirihara looked up from a manga, tucked neatly in his history text, right where sensei could see it. “Sure.” Kirihara stood, manga in hand, and cleared his throat. “It’s dark out Kentarou. We should go home.” He turned the manga to show the picture. “You can’t see it, but there’s a burglar in the alley in the back.”

“Sit down, Kirihara-kun.”

Kirihara shrugged and sat down. He didn’t need to know who the ruler of England was in 1756. He didn’t live in England and it wasn’t 1756, so who cared? You could play tennis without England if you wanted to. Besides, he saw the Queen of England on the TV once and her wrist would probably snap if she tried to play tennis.


	57. Senseless Smile (AtoJi)

Atobe tried very hard to dislike Jirou. Jirou stole Atobe’s middle school debut at the Newcomer’s Tournament and, despite the fact that Atobe was infinitely better looking, Jirou had twice the fan following. It was preposterous.

“Hey Atobe, let’s go get something to eat!”

And yet, despite debut thievery, Atobe couldn’t help but think that Jirou was cute. Impossibly cute. Disgustingly cute.

“Atobeeeeeeeee, come on!”

The insistent tugging at Atobe’s sleeve didn’t bother him, nor did the bright, vacant smile – the same smile Jirou gave to every other individual on the planet when he wasn’t asleep.

“You’re so slow, Atobe. No wonder you get chauffeured everywhere.”

Even the taunts were followed by that beautiful, maddening smile that seared an image of itself at the back of Atobe’s mind so he could take it out and wonder at it when tennis wasn’t challenging or school was a little too boring to hold his attention.

It baffled Atobe, but he was content to let it baffle him for the moment. Jirou was going to rip Atobe’s uniform shirt if he tugged any harder and Atobe’s mother didn’t take kindly to ruined clothes one month into the semester.


	58. Brothers (Hyoutei)

“Don’t say anything. Just…don’t.” Shishido stormed into his room and threw his tennis bag on the bed.

A knock sounded and the door opened. “You lost a bet, right?”

“Masaharu, if you don’t get the hell out of my room, I’m telling mom.” Shishido threw one of his dirty socks at his elder brother, who was grinning from ear to ear, just delighted at Shishido’s new haircut.

“Ooh, big threat there Ryou,” Masaharu said, entering and closing the door. “Seriously, though, what’s up with the crappy haircut?”

Shishido sunk into the stool that served as his desk chair. “You know how I was kicked off regulars last month?”

“Yeah, so?”

Shishido ran a hand through his choppy hair. He wasn’t going to cry. Girls and Oshitari cried, and he didn’t want to be associated with either. “I’m back on now.”

Masaharu put his palm to his face and shook his head. “Ryou, Ryou, do you always have to be so dramatic?” He clapped his hands together, startling Shishido out of his self-pity. “Well, come on, we’ve got about half an hour until mom gets home. I can probably even it out a bit so she doesn’t freak too much.”

This was the same brother who always stole the last of the cheese in the fridge, right when Shishido wanted a sandwich most. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re not going to tell mom that I’ve decided not to go to college and to become a mangaka instead, right?”

“I knew there was a catch.” A smile lit Shishido’s face for the first time that day. “You’re going to fail and be a burden on the family.”

“At least I still have my hair.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“No, you shut up…”


	59. Intruder (AtoJi)

Whenever Atobe went to Jirou’s house, _it_ was sitting on the bed, staring at him. It was evil, pure evil, and it knew every filthy thought going through Atobe’s head.  
  
 _It_ was the reason Atobe still hadn’t kissed Jirou, even though Atobe’s kissing plans were, as far as romance went, fairly tame, just a quick one on the cheek.   
  
He couldn’t, though, because _it_ was watching, snickering through its beady red eyes.  
  
“Ne Atobe, don’t growl like that. You’re scaring Usagi-kun.” Jirou picked up the purple stuffed bunny from the bed. “Apologize.”  
  
“I will not apologize to a know it all stuffed rabbit,” Atobe said, inching away from both Jirou and the bunny he held close to his chest, cheek propped on a fluffy, floppy ear.  
  
“You sleep on the floor, then,” Jirou said, setting Usagi-kun back on the bed.  
  
Atobe stared at the bunny again and sighed. He was going to tear that bunny to shreds and laugh over its cottony entrails one day. “I’m sorry Usagi-kun.”


	60. Angels with Pitchforks (Silver Pair)

If he didn’t like Choutarou – really, really, _really_ like Choutarou – he wouldn’t be doing this. He would never think to do it himself, and he certainly would never do it if Atobe, Oshitari, or – even though it would never happen in a million years – Gakuto asked.  
  
Choutarou made him do stupid things, though, like forget that Vacation Bible School wasn’t the coolest place in the world.  
  
“Am I going to erupt in flames when I go into this place?” Shishido asked, shouldering his duffel bag.   
  
Choutarou laughed and quickly grabbed Shishido’s hand, squeezing it, before letting go. “Of course not Shishido-san. Everyone’s really nice here.”  
  
Shishido didn’t think the churchies would be so nice if they knew that he was thinking impure thoughts about that hand squeeze. Somehow Free Love for Jesus didn’t seem to be the message the camp was offering. Shame, that would’ve been one cool camp. “So, uh, they won’t really care that I’m, you know, not religious or that I…uh…that we…uh”  
  
“No, Shishido-san, they won’t mind.” Ohtori gave another one of those lightening fast hand squeezes and Shishido was certain he was going to erupt in flames.  
  
“Okay.” Shishido adjusted his cap and entered the church, ready for angels to descend and ask why he was intent on soiling their beloved Choutarou with his foul, pervy ways. Nevermind that Choutarou was always the one who kissed first or that the entire “boyfriend” thing was his idea, the angels would _know_ that it was Shishido’s fault and that Ohtori would’ve been better off without his hell-bound senpai.  
  
“Shishido-san, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.” Ohtori's smile said that he wouldn’t mind if Shishido left, but that, secretly, he’d hold it against Shishido for the rest of his life.  
  
There was a big, stained glass angel right above the secondary entryway. “After nationals, this is nothing.” Shishido bopped Ohtori on the head. “You worry to much, Choutarou. Let’s hurry up and get in there before the…uh…good pews are taken.”  
  
Choutarou laughed and squeezed Shishido’s hand. Maybe Shishido could live through this – if God didn’t smite him in the night.


	61. Important Decisions (AtoShishi)

“Shishido, what do you think about this one?” Atobe held up a pink, ruffly shirt.  
  
“I think my mom has one like that. Keigo, shut up and let me get some sleep, huh?” Shishido tried to burrow himself in what Atobe let pass for a guest futon. The futon was, like everything in the Atobe estate, very pretty, very high cost, and very uncomfortable.  
  
Atobe sniffed and turned back to his closet. “Of course, there are the  _other_  ones.”  
  
Shishido slammed his head on his pillow. “The ones Jirou got you for Christmas last year? The ones with the penguins? Sure, wear those. Wear nothing. I don’t care, just pick out some damn pajamas and go to bed already.”


	62. Honesty Between Friends (Rikkai)

“I’m simply stating a fact, Genichirou, you don’t have to be defensive.”   
  
Sanada reminded himself that throwing a lunch tray went against his image and would upset Yukimura. “Renji, we are going to discontinue this discussion.”  
  
They found an empty table and sat, Renji opening his milk carton, Sanada fixing a bowl of rice that was off-center of the tray.  
  
“People notice,” Renji said before sipping his milk.  
  
Sanada took a deep breath. Yukimura would be there soon. Violence would solve nothing, even if it would make Sanada feel a tiny bit better. Besides, Renji was Sanada’s oldest friend. Friends were supposed to be open with one another.   
  
Renji stood up a bit from the bench and peered over the tabletop. “You really should get new pants, Genichirou. They can tailor them for your situation.”  
  
Sanada picked up his tray. He would eat in the classroom.


	63. One Game (Rikkai)

In his dreams, Kirihara was unbeatable. He walked onto the tennis court and the moon eclipsed the sun, sending a sole ray of light to shine down on him. The light twisted around him, haloed him, made him the most brilliant spot on the court – in the world.  
  
By the end of morning practice, Kirihara was Kirihara again, the second year regular who couldn’t beat Yukimura or Sanada, not even when they gave him a handicap. Sanada using only backhands was still stronger. Yukimura closing one eye still had higher perception.  
  
In his dream, Kirihara ruled the tennis world. In reality, he was just another peon on the courts, there to serve as stepping stone to the greater players.  
  
It made him angry. It made him bitter.  
  
“Don’t frown so much, Akaya, your face will stick that way.” Yukimura-buchou said it every practice and, every practice, Yanagi-senpai laughed and Kirihara nodded, pretending to agree because, if you didn’t agree with Yukimura, you were off regulars. Also, Sanada shoved his racquet in your face.  
  
Every day after practice, Kirihara took his allowance to the community center and rented the ball machine, practicing shot after shot until his allotment for the day was up or he had to go home for dinner. His hands were rubbed red from over-practicing, but they would callous eventually and the pain would go away. Even if they didn’t, if he could get one game, just one game, it would all be worth it.


	64. Historical (Hyoutei)

In the first grade, Choutarou threw sand at Hiyoshi.

In the second grade, Hiyoshi began Enbu training and was able to dodge the sand.

In the third grade, Hiyoshi became immersed in his Enbu training and became too cool to hang out with happy Choutarou-kun, whose chubby cheeks and bright eyes got him out of everything, even shoving girls off the swings.

In second year of middle school, Hiyoshi was beginning to regret having used his Enbu skill to steal Ohtori’s lunch in the fourth grade. Ohtori never really forgave him for taking the tray on eggroll day. The cafeteria eggrolls tasted nothing like real eggrolls, but Choutarou loved them because they had nutmeg in them. Nutmeg was Ohtori’s heroin in the fifth grade. Even in middle school he’d sneak some into his hot chocolate when he thought no one was looking.

“Hey Choutarou, let’s move it or we’ll be late for practice,” Shishido said, grabbing both his and Ohtori’s racquets.

“Be there in a minute. My shoe’s coming untied.” Ohtori paused and watched Shishido leave, as he always did. Hiyoshi figured Ohtori had some weird fixation on Shishido’s ass or something equally as stupid. Choutarou was weird like that. “Hey Hiyoshi, if you get that Enbu tennis down, maybe I’ll let you be a regular next year.” Choutarou’s smile was an exact replica of his third grade self after he pushed Wasami Chiriko off the monkey bars and she hit her head on the side of the sandbox.

“Whatever.” Hiyoshi left the lockeroom, watching Ohtori’s reflection in the window to make sure he didn’t throw anything. Hiyoshi would wait until after practice, when Choutarou was off spying on Shishido in the shower, then he’d go in for the nutmeg.


	65. Distracted (AtoJi)

It wasn’t fair. Of all the people to have as a lab partner, Atobe had to be stuck with the crazy narcoleptic.  
  
“Did you know if you let that boil over, it’ll explode because of a dehydration reaction?”   
  
Even when Jirou was saying brilliant things, it was still embarrassing because he had that dopey expression on his face.  
  
“Hey Atobe, I said it’ll explode if you let it boil over.”  
  
And, what was more, Jirou was ridiculously cute while napping, which took attention away from Atobe’s magnificent self.  
  
“If it explodes, it will probably burn all your hair off.”  
  
Boom.


	66. On the Town (Maruihara)

In the sweltering June heat, Marui wore a black turtleneck and long black pants. A ski cap hid all of his hair from sight.  
  
“Senpai, you look silly,” Kirihara said, easily slipping his hand into Marui’s.   
  
“I don’t go to your school anymore, so you don’t have to call me senpai.” Marui’s eyes flitted around the street. His palm was sweating.  
  
“You’re still my senpai, though.” Kirihara grinned and winked. “I’m dating up, now. A high schooler. Wow.”  
  
Marui reclaimed his hand. “We could not talk about that.”  
  
“Hey Marui!” Niou waved at them from across the street but a firm tug from Yagyuu kept him away.  
  
“Isn’t it hot in that?” Kirihara asked, taking Marui’s hand back.  
  
Marui adjusted his cap with his free hand. “They shouldn’t be able to notice me.”  
  
Kirihara squeezed Marui’s hand and began to hum. “If you took out the gum, it would work better, senpai.”


	67. Mushy Talk (Various)

“Doesn’t it piss you off?” Gakuto asked Kirihara while they pretended to stretch. Neither of them was playing for a while – summer tournaments lasted forever – but neither wanted to be seen with the other so they had to pretend to be doing something useful.

Kirihara shrugged. “Not really. It’s kinda cute.”

Gakuto rolled his eyes. “It’s like he’s embarrassed or something. It would piss me off.”

Kirihara took out a stick of gum and began to chew. “It’s no big deal.”

Gakuto accepted a piece of gum and as soon as the gum hit his tongue, his eyes grew wide. “Wow, that’s good.”

“Marui-senpai bought it for me. It’s designer gum.” Kirihara snickered and continued to stretch.

“So he’ll buy you gum but he won’t tell anyone you’re dating? That’s stupid. If Yuushi did that, I’d kick his ass.” The gum tasted like raspberries, real raspberries, not that disgusting faux raspberry flavor.

“He’s embarrassed, but he still goes out with me, so it’s no big deal.” A stupid smile cracked Kirihara’s usual grin. 

Gakuto shook his head. “I still don’t get how a bunch of mushy losers beat the crap out of us. I’m gonna go look for Yuushi before I catch some brain disease from you.” Gakuto ran off before Kirihara could snap out of his Marui-haze and realize that Gakuto had insulted his precious team, an offense for which many a tennis player had lost the use of a limb or two for weeks.


	68. Man on a Mission (Various)

Shishido stood very, very still. If he didn’t move, then he wouldn’t be noticed.  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
Too late, Sanada saw him. “None of your business.” Shishido stood as tall as he could and was still staring at Sanada’s chest. One day that growth spurt his mom talked about would come and then they’d all see. He wasn’t short, he was just a late bloomer.  
  
“This is my campus and you will state your intentions or leave.” Sanada smacked his racquet into his palm.  
  
Damn but this was embarrassing. “I need to know where Marui Bunta’s locker is.”  
  
“Why do you wanna know?”   
  
Shishido jumped at the sudden voice from behind him and turned sideways so Kirihara wasn’t at his back. Now Shishido had one eye on Sanada and one on Kirihara. You couldn’t let your guard down when on Rikkai territory. Evil was everywhere. “I just wanna know, okay. Where is it?”  
  
Kirihara ambled closer and draped an arm across Shishido’s shoulders. They were the same height, so it was easy. “I’ll take him there, fukubuchou.” Red light flickered from Kirihara’s eyes.  
  
“Just tell me where it is.” Shishido tried to get out from under Kirihara’s grasp but failed.  
  
With a quickness often attributed to rabbits and roadrunners, Kirihara’s arm flew from Shishido’s shoulder, dove into his back pocket, and pulled out a small, powder blue envelope. “You giving Marui-senpai a love letter?”  
  
Shishido stepped away, not liking the growl that escaped when Kirihara spoke. “It’s from someone at my school, and it’s not a love letter, it’s a fan letter.”  
  
“Akutagawa Jirou,” Sanada said, moving forward and putting a hand on Kirihara’s shoulder. “Show him the locker and do not destroy the letter.”  
  
Sanada left and Shishido was alone with a red-eyed, lip-licking beast. Next time, Shishido would just let Kabaji beat him into the ground instead of accepting Gakuto’s stupid dares.


	69. Meet the Dog (Silver Pair)

Choutarou stood on the table and cowered. “Shishido-san! Help!” He wasn’t expecting to be attacked when he accepted Shishido’s invitation to spend the night.

“Schatzi!” Shishido whistled and the rabid beast that had been yapping at Choutarou ran to his master. “See Choutarou, she’s just a cute little thing. Aren’t you, gorgeous? Yes, you are.”

Shishido-san was snuggling and rubbing noses with the vile creature. Choutarou remained perched on the table. “Take it outside.”

Shishido lifted the dog up. “But she just needs to get to know you.” He walked closer and the dog started barking. “Schatzi, be nice to Choutarou.”

Ohtori cringed and picked up a magazine, rolling it. “Get it away from me.”

Shishido sighed and left to toss the dog outside. “Jesus Choutarou, she’s just a dachshund.”


	70. Why Rome Fell (Sanayuki)

Yukimura sat at his desk, doodling and waiting for the sensei to stop repeating the same thing over and over. Yes, the Roman empire fell – that was because it wasn’t run by Yukimura, who would’ve done things the proper way and not all hodgepodge. 

Sanada would look cute in one of those togas.

“Yukimura-kun, can you summarize page 49 for us?” Sensei’s smirk was annoying. He’d been trying to catch Yukimura off guard all year. 

Yukimura stood, adjusted his hair, and waited for the class to be silent. “The Roman empire fell because, while it had a strong central leader, it lacked a secondary leader. For example, when I notice something is wrong on the tennis courts, I send Sanada and he fixes it. This system allows for me to control the club while still retaining a friendly atmosphere between myself and my players. If the Romans had a Sanada, everything would’ve been fine.”

Yukimura sat. Sensei excused himself from the room. His face was red and his fists were clenching. In the classroom, the female students were babbling about Yukimura’s courage and how cool he was. Yukimura just wanted to go play tennis. Maybe he’d ask Sanada for a match and some victory ice cream.


	71. Trouble (Rikkai)

Sanada stood in the hallway of the administrative building, leaning against a wall. Next to him, sitting on a small bench, was Kirihara. “What did you do this time?” he asked, scowling at the opposing wall.  
  
“I ditched class and snuck out for lunch.” Kirihara’s shoulders drooped, but not enough to show that he was properly sorry. If he were truly sorry, he’d be on the floor, begging for Sanada’s forgiveness.  
  
“And why would you do that?” Sanada already knew the answer, but was curious to see if Kirihara would tell the truth.  
  
“Marui-senpai left his lunch at home, so I went to give him mine.” Kirihara fidgeted and bit his lip.  
  
Sanada took a deep breath. He could scold Kirihara, but he’d be a hypocrite as, the year previous, Yukimura had a different lunch period and Sanada skipped class to give Yukimura his wallet, which he’d left at Sanada’s house the previous day. “Do not do it again.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Sanada smiled, just enough to show Kirihara that he meant no harm, but not enough to give the impression that Sanada was, in any way, a nice guy. “I will speak with the principal. Practice is starting. Go.”  
  
Kirihara hopped up and looked quickly up and down the hall. “If anyone asks, I never did this.”  
  
Sanada’s eyes flew open as he was folded in a quick, fierce hug before Kirihara bolted down the hall.


	72. The Price of Doubles Drama (OshiGaku)

“I’m not playing tennis with that pretentious asshole,” Gakuto said, crossing his arms over his chest and stomping his foot.  
  
They really should pay Atobe for dealing with this. “Sit and tell ore-sama what Oshitari’s done this time.” Atobe patted the coaching bench and tried not to look as annoyed as he felt. Annoyed expressions made Atobe’s eyebrows look unattractive.  
  
“I bought him a strawberry milk last month and he  _still_  hasn’t paid me back,” Gakuto said, flailing his arms as he spoke.   
  
Atobe reached into his duffel and pulled out a 1000 yen note. “This should cover it, ah?”  
  
“I don’t want your stupid money,” Gakuto grumbled, pushing the offering back. “I want Yuushi to keep his word and stop making stupid excuses.”  
  
Atobe rolled his eyes and stood up. “This is obviously some sort of doubles issue that ore-sama, being a sensible singles player, cannot hope to understand. If you feel less dramatic, you are welcome to join the team in practice. Until the matter is settled, Taki and Hiyoshi will gladly be regulars in your and Oshitari’s stead.”


	73. Ultimate Doubles Battle (Various)

“Shishido-san, be careful!”  
  
“I’m fine Choutarou, now stop distracting me.” Shishido spared a moment of his concentration to wave off Ohtori’s concern, which was completely unfounded. He could handle something as simple as this.  
  
“Eiji!” Oishi stood beside Ohtori, fists clenched and muscles tensed. He was probably going to come jump into the pit to save his precious doubles partner. Shishido gave a snort of derision, glad that his doubles partner could keep a cool head under pressure.  
  
“I’m fine Oishi,” Kikumaru said. He was panting. His stamina was down. Soon, Shishido could go in for the kill.  
  
“Left, Shishido-san! Left!”  
  
“Jump Eiji, Jump!”  
  
“Choutarou, you’re distracting me!”  
  
“Oishi, I  _know_!”  
  
Shishido’s foot slipped and, with a crowd-silencing cry of “Shishido-san!” Ohtori leapt into the pit and grabbed onto Shishido’s waist to keep him from falling.  
  
“Thanks Choutarou, I was going to do a really cool move, but now I lost and everyone will hear how we lost to the Golden Pair. Just…thanks.” Shishido stomped off the DDR pad and out of the arcade, Ohtori easily keeping pace behind him.


	74. The Important Things (Rikkai)

“I don’t care if it’s the last tennis ball on earth, we’re not playing with it.” Kirihara hugged the tennis ball to his chest, ready to defend it to the death.  
  
“You’re being illogical, Akaya. It’s just a tennis ball.” Renji moved forward to take the ball and Kirihara snapped his teeth.  
  
“It’s  _my_  tennis ball and I’m saying we’re not playing with it.” Kirihara took a few step back, teeth still bared.  
  
“Better listen to him Yanagi, he’ll really kill you if you try to take it.” Marui entered the court with a pop of spearmint gum. “That’s the tennis ball Yukimura gave him for Christmas.”  
  
“The Buchou Ball?” Renji asked, eyes blinking open for a fraction of a second. “Fascinating.” He tried for the ball again and Kirihara kneed him in the stomach.  
  
“Told you,” Marui said, helping Renji to a bench. “He even sleeps with it on his headboard.”  
  
“And how would you know that?”  
  
“Tensai,” Marui replied shakily. “Tensai.”


	75. Nervous (Inukai)

  
“I’ll have my phone with me,” Kaidoh said, adjusting his bandana, even though it did not require adjusting. “If there’s a problem, call.”  
  
“Everything will be fine Kaoru, let’s go,” Hazue said, tugging at his brother’s arm. “Inui-san’s got it all figured out, right?”  
  
Inui lifted his notebook and tapped it on his forehead. “I have reviewed all possible scenarios and can assure you that nothing will go wrong.”   
  
Kaoru hissed and looked around his house. “I’ll still have my phone with me.”  
  
“That was a 98% possibility, yes.”   
  
“Kaoru, come on! They’re waiting in the car and they’re gonna leave us if you don’t hurry up.”  
  
Kaoru hissed again. “I’ll call when we get there.”  
  
Inui put a hand to Kaoru’s back and began ushering him out the door. “It’s only a day trip, Kaidoh, the cat will be fine.”


	76. Taffy Trouble (Rikkai)

“I didn’t do it,” Kirihara said. He was tired of everyone blaming him when things were broken. Now the ball machine was spitting out taffy and everyone thought it was him. He didn’t even like taffy, that was more Marui-senpai’s thing.  
  
“Where were you at approximately 7:57 yesterday evening?” Yanagi asked. He had a composition book in hand and was wearing an ugly brown hat with a pinwheel on top of it.  
  
“I was…” He couldn’t really say that he was standing outside Marui-senpai’s house, trying to convince Marui that it was late and dark, so no one would notice if they had a quick kiss. Marui-senpai would kill him if he said that. “I was leaving Marui-senpai’s house after borrowing some notes.”  
  
Yanagi stopped scribbling in his notebook and turned to Marui. “Is this true?”  
  
“Kinda,” Marui said. He’d been staring at the taffy, probably wondering if it was safe to snack on. Marui-senpai was weird because he believed in the Forty Second Rule. He said that he’d done tests in the school science lab and forty seconds was when the bacteria began to grow, not five or ten. Kirihara thought that Marui-senpai was making it up so he could eat more sweets.  
  
“Something is either true or false,” Yanagi said. “Which is it?”  
  
“He was at my house.” Marui-senpai was beginning to slouch, which meant he was trying to make himself small so he wouldn’t be noticed. Kirihara’s cat did the same thing when he was in trouble.  
  
“See, I wasn’t lying, now leave us alone.” Kirihara moved to block Marui from the team’s view, which seemed to make Yukimura-buchou happy because he smiled extra-wide. Kirihara liked being the favorite.  
  
“So then, who did it?” Renji asked, scratching his chin and adjusting his stupid hat.  
  
“Niou was not at practice today,” Jackal said in the same voice he used when he called Kirihara over from doing something fun.  
  
“Oh,” Yanagi said. “My apologies, Akaya.”  
  
Kirihara stuck his tongue out and would’ve kicked Yanagi in the shin, but Marui-senpai was still trying to be small, so Kirihara stayed, passing a stick of gum to his senpai on the sly.


	77. Cake or Death (Maruihara)

“Why is it green?”  
  
“That’s food coloring. I wanted it to look like that gum you’re always chewing.”  
  
Kirihara tried very hard to make Marui happy. Sometimes he tried too hard. Baking a cake and decorating it to look like a stick of gum was trying too hard, particularly when Kirihara had the baking skills of a spider monkey.  
  
“It looks…nice,” Marui said. The cake  _smelled_  weird, too, not quite fruit and not quite mint. It would probably taste like mouthwash and vomit, like Kirihara’s curry experiment the week previous.  
  
“Try some!” Kirihara’s hands were fidgeting on the countertop.  
  
He really did look cute in that duckie apron.   
  
Marui took a deep breathe and took a bite of cake. “It’s great,” he said around his gag reflex.  
  
Kirihara brightened and launched over the counter, delivering a giant hug. While Kirihara was busy cleaning up his baking pans, Marui quickly hid his portion of the cake in a nearby ficus.


	78. Mochi Mayhem (Silver Pair)

“How do I get this off my hand?” Shishido shook his hand, trying to dislodge the globule of mochi paste. Choutarou had stupid ideas for “togetherness” activities. “I scrape it off and it just gets stuck on the other hand.”  
  
Choutarou, clad in a pale yellow apron, hands slathered in olive oil, reached over and plucked the mochi ball from Shishido’s un-oiled and very sticky hands. “You were supposed to put oil on your hands so it wouldn’t stick, Shishido-san.”  
  
Shishido refrained from saying that he thought Choutarou wanted him to slather his hands in oil for reasons not related to cooking. “Well I didn’t, so what do I do now?”  
  
Ohtori laughed, trying to hide it behind his hands.   
  
“What?”  
  
“You look like one of those monsters from that zombie anime, Shishido-san.”  
  
“I am not a Super Zombiebot, Choutarou. I’m just covered in crap that won’t come off.” Shishido shook his hands again. “I’m gonna go wash my hands. You can finish making these things.” Shishido wasn’t doing much anyway, just squishing and reforming the glutinous masses, trying to make them look like mochi but only succeeding in making little mochi slugs.   
  
“We’re almost done anyway, Zombie-san.”   
  
Shishido tried to throw a glob of mochi from his hand at Choutarou but it refused to come off. Instead, Shishido gave in and shouted, “Super Zombiebot Mega Hyper Attack!” and launched himself at Choutarou, determined to mess the beautiful yellow apron.


	79. No Experience Needed (Kajimoto/Wakato)

“Baking powder, baking powder,” Wakato mumbled, rifling through Kajimoto’s mother’s pantry.   
  
“I’m going to buy a cake,” Kajimoto said, moving between Wakato and the shelves.  
  
“I saw your mom make a cake yesterday. I can do it, no problem.” Wakato winked and used his hip to bump Kajimoto away from the pantry.  
  
“Tennis and baking are different things. You  _do_  understand that, don’t you?” Kajimoto tried to intervene again but was intercepted by Wakato’s leg hooking around his and tripping him.  
  
“I said I got it, babe, so stop worrying.” Another wink and a blown kiss to accent it.  
  
Kajimoto shook his head and left the kitchen. There was no stopping Wakato when he was in one of his moods. He would only learn after he’d destroyed the cake and ruined Kajimoto’s kitchen, thus getting banned for another month.   
  
“Hey Kajimoto, which one is the tablespoon and which is the teaspoon?”  
  
They would buy a cake on the way to Youhei and Kouhei’s party and Wakato could pretend he made it. They could even put his catch phrase on it.


	80. Dinner with Akutsu (AkuSen)

“It’s a soufflé.”  
  
“Is that so?” Sengoku stared at the jiggly mass of yellow in the small dish in front of him. “It looks…great.”  
  
“It’s French, now eat it before it gets cold.” Somehow, dressed in sunflower print oven mitts and a big chef’s hat, Akutsu was less than imposing.  
  
“Ah, how do I say this?” Sengoku scratched his head and stared at the ceiling. “This stuff looks like cat vomit.”  
  
Akutsu threw an oven mitt and hit Sengoku between the eyes. “You sayin’ there’s something wrong with my cooking? Who do you think I am?”  
  
“Well, I…”  
  
“Akutsu! Akutsu Jin! And my meals are more than good enough for you! Now eat!”  
  
Sengoku awkwardly raised his spoon and cut a chunk of soufflé. It wiggled and slid around the spoon. Hesitantly, he took a taste. “Wow, it’s good.”  
  
“Of course it is! Who do you think I am!? Akutsu! Akutsu Jin! And….”  
  
“Your food’s great Jin. I am an unworthy slug, blah blah blah. Can I get some more?”


	81. Masters of the Sugar Cookie (Various)

“Yuuta, what did I tell you about bringing in strays?” Syusuke said, picking Mizuki up by the back of his shirt and tossing him outside. “They’ll spray all over the house.”  
  
“Aniki, that wasn’t a stray, that was Mizuki-san.” Yuuta opened the door and Mizuki, finger curled around a strand of pomaded hair, reentered.  
  
“It’s okay Yuuta-kun, I’m sure Syusuke-kun is feeling threatened by my presence.” Mizuki laughed and sat down at the dining bar, one leg crossed demurely over the other.   
  
“Yuuta, is the cat meowling? Perhaps it has rabies. We should call the animal catcher.” Syusuke made a grab for Mizuki, who ducked under the stool.  
  
“Would you two stop it?” A timer went off and Yuuta removed a tray of sugar cookies from the over. “Yanagisawa’s birthday cookies need to be decorated, so if you’re not going to help, you can leave.”  
  
Mizuki escaped his stool prison with a flourish of his purple poet’s shirt. “I happen to be an expert pastry decorator. I won the All Kantou Junior Chef title three years ago.”  
  
“Yuuta, should you let that thing touch the cookies? They might get contaminated.”  
  
Yuuta sighed and passed Syusuke and Mizuki decorating tubes. “Just put a smiley face on them. You can both manage that, right?”


	82. Excuses (Tachibana/Kamio)

“I’m a failure!” Kamio fell to the floor in a puff of white flour.   
  
Tachibana picked Kamio off the floor and wiped a glob of cake batter from his cheek. “It’s not so bad.”  
  
Kamio grabbed Tachibana’s waist and pulled himself up, then buried himself in Tachibana’s cow print apron. “He’s going to hate it!”  
  
Tachibana looked at the cake. It was a bit…cheerful for Ibu, but the small sample cake tasted fine. “There’s nothing wrong with the cake.” Tachibana folded Kamio in a hug.  
  
Was Kamio grabbing his ass?  
  
“He’s going to hate it!” Kamio continued to wail into Tachibana’s chest.  
  
Kamio was definitely grabbing Tachibana’s ass.  
  
“Akira?” Tachibana held Kamio at arm’s length.   
  
“Yes Tachibana-san?”  
  
“Shinji’s birthday isn’t for another two months.”


	83. Dreaming (AtoJi)

Jirou twitched in his sleep. He was walking through a great big field full of chocolate trees and little rabbits were bringing him strawberries. Keigo wasn’t there, though, so it was a little boring.  
  
“Jirou.”  
  
The bunnies scattered and a wind began to pick up. It was cold.  
  
“Jirou.”  
  
If Keigo were there, he’d give Jirou his jacket and, even though the jacket would be made of nothing heavier than spider webs, it would still be warm and make Jirou’s stomach rumble and gurgle and…  
  
Jirou woke up.  
  
“It’s about time. Ore-sama didn’t make room in his schedule to make you desert so that you could sleep through it.”


	84. Another Hyoutei Photo Session (Hyoutei)

Wearing chaps sucked, particularly when you were wearing chaps over your tennis shorts.  
  
“This has nothing to do with tennis, so why the hell do we have to do it?” Gakuto jumped from foot to foot, trying to find a position that didn’t chafe. The chaps he was wearing were a little too long and were cutting into the crease of his thigh.  
  
“Atobe never has and never will make sense,” Shishido said. He was still trying to get his chaps on, waiving Ohtori off every time the second year tried to help him. “I’ve got it, Choutarou.”  
  
“No feeling eachother up in public!” Gakuto snickered, still hopping.  
  
“Are you certain about that?” Oshitari walked behind Gakuto and lifted him up by the waist. “Does that ease the strain?”  
  
“Oh gross,” Hiyoshi said, covering his eyes.   
  
“Are we shooting some kinda porno here?” Shishido, chaps on backwards, threw one of his socks. It landed on Oshitari’s head.  
  
“Look Yuushi, it’s Western Gothic Lolita!” Gakuto snickered and dangled his feet happily. Now that Yuushi picked him up, the chaps weren’t so bad.  
  
“Never say that again,” Shishido said, finally accepting Ohtori’s help.  
  
Atobe entered, Kabaji and Jirou behind him. Jirou was, per usual, slung over Kabaji's shoulder. “Are we all prepared?”  
  
“Fuck off!”  
  
“Yuushi, don’t do that, it’ll show in the photo!”  
  
“You’re all freaks!”  
  
“Shishido-senpai, stop wiggling around, I can’t get this buckled!”  
  
“I thought it might pass the time. My apologies, Gakuto.”  
  
Atobe snapped his fingers and left the room. “Five more minutes, Kabaji. See that they’re ready.”  
  
“Uhs.”


	85. Impulsive Action (Ohtori/Kaidou)

Senbatsu was boring. The decks were stacked against Choutarou because he was a second year and not from Seigaku. He didn’t mind too much. The food was good and he didn’t have to go to classes. Also, he got to room with Shishido-san because no one else wanted to, except Oshitari, who was rooming by himself by order of Atobe.  
  
“What do you think about Seigaku, Shishido-san?”  
  
Shishido was sprawled across his bed, reading a car magazine. His hat was on, which meant he was expecting a visit soon.  
  
“They’re a bunch of goody goody assholes who don’t know how to mind their own business.” Shishido grunted and looked up from his magazine. “Why?”  
  
“Oh, no reason.” Ohtori smiled his characteristic smile and Shishido returned his attention to his magazine.  
  
A knock sounded.  
  
“Get that.” Shishido’s hand waived in the direction of the window and the ceiling fan. “If it’s Atobe, tell him to fuck off.”  
  
Ah, they were fighting again. That explained the car magazine – Shishido didn’t actually like cars, but Atobe detested street racing – and the constant presence of the hat. “Yes, Shishido-san.”  
  
Ohtori opened the door and looked down at Kaidoh of all people. “Fssshu. Play tennis with me.”  
  
Ohtori blinked. Someone from Seigaku was asking him to do something. Him. Ohtori. “S-sure.” Ohtori’s cheeks warmed as he recalled Kaidoh’s practice match against Fuji Yuuta the day previous. Ryuzaki let her team rest and Shishido wanted to watch Atobe’s team practice but wanted to use Choutarou as a shield so Atobe wouldn’t see he was there. Kaidoh’s team was practicing in the next court over.  
  
Kaidoh had really nice abs. Good thighs, too.  
  
“Come on.”   
  
Kaidoh’s attitude was a little like Shishido-san's, only Kaidoh was going to be captain of Seigaku next year, just like Choutarou, and he was a second year, just like Choutarou. “I’ll get my racquet,” Ohtori said, diving into the room and swiping up his tennis bag. “Bye Shishido-san! Hope you make up with Atobe-san soon! I’ll be back later.” Much later if Choutarou had his way.


	86. Strung Up (Ohtori/Kaidou)

The pros outweighed the cons, but Ohtori was having trouble looking beyond the cons at the moment. “Kaidoh, this hurts.” He was strung up in some apparatus in the name of muscle training. “I can’t feel my toes.” It was in a gym, so there was nothing overtly wrong with the situation, but Ohtori was naturally opposed to being strapped to a board and suspended from the ceiling.  
  
“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” Kaidoh said. “It’s to help your blood flow.”  
  
This was revenge for seeing the ballet last week. “I really can’t feel my toes.”  
  
Kaidoh pulled a switch and Ohtori flew toward the ground, jerking to a swaying stop a foot above the ground. “Fine,” Kaidoh said. “We’ll run now.”  
  
“Aren’t you going to go in this thing?”  
  
“No.”


	87. Dating for the Masters (Rikkai)

You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but Niou-senpai was a master in the ways of love. He was also Kirihara’s new personal hero.  
  
“Stick with me Akaya-kun,” Niou said, throwing an arm around Kirihara’s shoulders while gesturing grandly with the other. “With my help, you’ll knock him dead.”  
  
“Not really, though,” Kirihara said. He wiggled out of Niou’s hold because someone might walk by and get the wrong idea. Kirihara was already working with a handicap, he didn’t need anything else counting against him.  
  
“Of course not.” Niou snickered and his eyes darted around. He leaned close to Kirihara’s ear. “Are you ready to thrill him with ecstasy?”  
  
“Ah…yes?” Niou-senpai sounded stupid, but shoujo manga sounded stupid, too. Guys always got what they wanted in shoujo manga, so Kirihara was willing to give it a shot, even if it meant capes, chocolates, and stupid one-liners.  
  
“Fantastic.” Niou’s snickers changed into cackles. “Let our Love Crusade begin!”  
  
&-&  
  
Chocolates, check. Roses, check. Bottle of sparkling cider because Kirihara was too young to buy wine, check.   
  
Kirihara clicked on his iPod and hooked the speakers up.  
  
Music, check.  
  
“Now sing out to your love!” Niou-senpai’s voice over the ketai speakerphone sounded like Sanada on helium. Cool.  
  
Kirihara studied the lyrics that Niou wrote especially for Kirihara’s situation. There were a lot of baby’s and woowoo’s, but the melody, a cross between Glay’s “Freeze my Love” and Gackt’s “Vanilla,” made the lyrics tolerable, if not a little sentimental.   
  
“Baby, baby, woowoo!  
Baby, baby, woowoo!”  
My heart burns like battery acid  
Burns for you, baby  
Woowoo!”  
  
Marui’s window opened and his mother poked her head out. “Bunta’s staying at Jackal’s for the night. You might like to try him there.” She quickly closed the window.


	88. Strategies (Ohtori/Kaidou)

Ohtori didn’t set out to change Kaidoh. He enjoyed Kaoru’s quirks, some of which were very useful when double dating with Oshitari and Gakuto, who demanded they “protect the virtue of their beloved kouhai.” Gakuto and Kaidoh fought through Oshitari’s ridiculous drama films, making the crying and vows of undying love tolerable.  
  
Nevertheless, Kaidoh’s tastes were beginning to merge with Ohtori’s own. This was a good thing. It meant that Kaidoh no longer argued about garlic butter or gravies that weren’t on his list of foods for the week.  
  
“You’re slacking!” Ohtori yelled to his freshmen. “Three more laps!”  
  
Hiyoshi tapped Ohtori on the shoulder. “They’ve already done forty laps. Give ‘em a break.”  
  
Ohtori was changing, too. As a result of his daily training with Kaidoh, Ohtori was a master of stamina and, just like Kaidoh, he expected everyone on his team to follow his example.  
  
“They’re going to pass out,” Hiyoshi said, grabbing the whistle around Ohtori’s neck. He blew the whistle three times and the running ichinen stopped, crumbling to the ground. “Jesus Choutarou. You trying to kill them?” Hiyoshi stomped toward the ichinen. “Get some water and take a break.”  
  
&-&  
  
“Kaidoh-buchou, my legs can’t go anymore!” One of Kaidoh’s freshmen stumbled and fell to the ground.   
  
Ohtori watched as Kaidoh ran to the fallen boy, picked him up and took him to a bench. “Sit.” Kaidoh said, staring at the ichinen’s bleeding knee. “Momoshiro! The kit. Now!”  
  
Momoshiro and a number of the second years scrambled from their activities and went running for the first aid kit Ryuzaki was already carrying toward Kaidoh. Horio got there first, tugging the kit away with a quick apology. “Here Kaidoh-buchou!”  
  
Kaidoh bandaged the bleeding knee in a matter of seconds, patted the Ichinen on the head, and said, “Get some water then get running.”  
  
“Hai buchou!” The ichinen’s eyes sparkled and he stared at his bandaged knee in awe, swinging his leg to test it out. After a quick sip of water, the ichinen was off running, faster than before.  
  
&-&  
  
Ohtori watched his team as they rallied back and forth.   
  
“Your brain’s going to explode,” Hiyoshi said. “What’s wrong with you?”  
  
“Am I too tough on them?” Ohtori asked, indicating the freshmen with a nod of his head.  
  
Hiyoshi huffed and rolled his eyes. “Do you even remember freshman year, Choutarou? You passed out during laps at least twice a week.” Hiyoshi rapped on Ohtori’s skull. “Maybe that’s why you’re such a dork.”  
  
Ohtori took offense to being called a dork. Hyoutei did not tolerate dorks – they had no earning potential, as opposed to nerds who would eventually rule the world. Oshitari-senpai said so. “I guess I’m not that bad,” Ohtori said. He was still stupidly jealous of the twinkle in that freshman’s eye and the adoring way he said Kaidoh’s name. Ohtori could have fanboys, too, if he wanted. “You there!” He pointed at one of the less skilled freshmen.  
  
“The hell are you doing?” Hiyoshi looked at Ohtori through slitted eyes. He twirled his racquet in his hand and licked his lips. “Is this some weird domination game with your boyfriend, cuz he’s not here. He doesn’t care how you run the team.”  
  
Kaidoh didn’t care because he didn’t see Hyoutei as a threat. He said as much last week during training. He probably meant it to bolster Ohtori’s resolve. Instead, it just made Ohtori bitchy. “Your swing is atrocious,” Ohtori said. “If you can’t master so basic a skill, you have no business on my team.”  
  
“Yes Ohtori-buchou!” The freshman bowed deeply, nose brushing his knees. “I’ll improve, buchou! I won’t shame you!”  
  
“See that you don’t.” Ohtori dismissed the boy with a flick of his wrist and the knowledge that, next week, the boy’s swing would be improved. This was the Hyoutei way.   
  
“I thought you were going to go Seigaku for a minute there,” Hiyoshi said. “We don’t need any of that cuddly, feel good crap. Gekokujou!”


	89. Little Songs (Ohtori/Kaidou)

Kaidoh listened to rap music. Ohtori listened to jpop and, by order of his parents, classical. Kaidoh used noise cancelling headphones when he listened to his rap music and so he was not aware that he sang the odd lyric.  
  
“Slash slash….”   
  
It wouldn’t be so bad if Kaidoh sang all the lyrics in the line instead of one or two per verse. So far, Ohtori could find no pattern in Kaidoh’s singing, but the search cost him time that should have been spent studying his Latin.  
  
“Shazam!”  
  
Who could study Latin while being subjected to random rap? Ohtori couldn’t. He was about to remove Kaidoh’s headphones and ask him to be quiet when Kaidoh’s beat-box humming began to sound familiar.  
  
“Hand in hand in the sugar mooooooonlight!”  
  
Who knew Kaidoh listened to The Chocolate. His singing wasn’t bad, really – when he wasn’t singing utter crap.


	90. In the Dark (Hyoutei)

“My jersey is missing,” Hiyoshi said amidst the towel-smack and laughter of the clubhouse. “I  _said_  my jersey is missing!” When it became apparent that no one had any intention of listening, Hiyoshi stalked to the door and turned off the clubhouse lights.  
  
“Who’s touching my ass!?”  
  
“Ore-sama is not a bench!”  
  
“Shishido-san!”  
  
“If you don’t get your hands off me, I’m going to kick your ass!”  
  
“Hey Yuushi, c’mere.”  
  
“Shishido-saaaaaaaan!”  
  
“Whomever is touching ore-sama will be off the team!”  
  
Hiyoshi turned the lights back on. Oshitari was sitting on Atobe’s lap, lips sealed against Gakuto’s. Atobe’s right arm was stuck in Shishido’s pants, twined with Ohtori’s. One of Shishido’s hands was up Ohtori’s shirt and the other was wrapped around his waist, allowing Shishido to suspend a quarter foot off the ground.  
  
“Kabaji, that’s my jersey!” Hiyoshi ran and recovered his jersey, which Kabaji was using as a hair towel. “I’m sorry sweetie.” Hiyoshi hugged the jersey close, tears streaming down his face. “I’ll take you away from the bad, sick, perverted men now.”  
  
“Hey Hiyoshi, turn the lights off again,” Gakuto called as Hiyoshi turned to go.


	91. Club Wars (Rikkai)

  
“Yukimura-buchou! Yukimura-buchou!” Kirihara ran into the clubhouse. His hair was white and his uniform was stained.  
  
“Kirihara, did you help Niou with another of his projects?” Yukimura slid his hand through Kirihara’s hair. It came away white. He sniffed. “Chalk?”  
  
“Buchou! Buchou!” Marui stormed into the clubhouse, hair white and uniform red. “Buchou, the soccer team, they’re here!”  
  
“Oh.” Yukimura’s eyes flashed. “Come, Sanada. We shall deal with them.”  
  
Jackal handed Sanada his racquet and a utility belt rigged to rapid-fire tennis balls. “Don’t hit the red button,” he said, clapping Sanada on the shoulder for luck.   
  
“Understood.” Sanada strapped the belt on over his camouflage unitard. “Let’s go.”  
  
Yukimura and Sanada flew out the door, ready for battle, just as Renji strolled in. “Sanada and Yukimura are taking this fundraiser a little too far, aren’t they?”  
  
“The soccer club took our prime chocolate bar selling area,” Kirihara said, slamming his fist into his palm. He shook his head, sending a white cloud of dust that settled in a circle around him. “We can’t forgive that.”


	92. Hiyoshi's Secret (Hyoutei)

  
“Lots of people can’t,” Ohtori said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”  
  
“Can you?” Hiyoshi asked, crossing his arms and slouching against his locker.  
  
Ohtori wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Well, yeah, but you can do enbu and I can’t.”  
  
“That’s different!” Hiyoshi slid down the locker until he was cross-legged on the ground. “I’m a failure.”  
  
“You’re not a failure,” Ohtori sighed. He almost reached out to pat Hiyoshi on the head, but that would just make Hiyoshi even more bitter. For someone who defeated 200 others to make the Hyoutei regulars, Hiyoshi was sure insecure, especially about stupid things. “It’s okay if you can’t swim.”


	93. Bad Idea (Yamabuki)

“Sengoku-senpai, this is a bad idea desu!” Taichi’s clenched fists rapped against Sengoku’s hip. “Akutsu-senpai will find out and be mad and he’ll hit you desu!”  
  
Sengoku laughed, his chest puffing out. “Don’t mind! Don’t mind! Akutsu will appreciate the effort we’re making.”   
  
“He’s going to hit you desu!” Taichi tugged at Sengoku’s jersey. “He’s not going to like it and he’s going to hit you, then you’ll die desu!”  
  
Sengoku stepped away from Taichi, but the freshman just trailed alongside him. “No one’s going to want to date you if you worry this much,” Sengoku said. “You should be more like me.” Sengoku wiggled his eyebrows and flashed his toothy smile. “Women love me.”  
  
“But you don’t like women desu! You’re going out with Akutsu-senpai and he’s going to be mad when he finds out about this and break up with you and then you’ll be depressed and rebound on Kajimoto-san desu!”  
  
“We’re just throwing him a birthday party, Taichi. It will be fine. Now, give me Kawamura-san’s number.” Sengoku held out his hand, smile gone.  
  
“But they’re exes, Sengoku-senpai! It’s a bad idea desu!” Taichi stomped around in a circle and his headband fell. “It’s dark desu! The world is ending desu!”


	94. Support (Hyoutei)

They weren’t so bad, so long as Atobe wore pants and no one could see them.  
  
“You’re walkin’ funny,” Gakuto said, pointing to Atobe’s behind, which stuck out more than usual. “Have a rough time last night?” Gakuto jumped to avoid any violence Atobe might do, even though Atobe would never resort to sullying himself with Gakuto’s blood. Atobe had Kabaji for those things.  
  
“Ore-sama is not walking funny.” Atobe straightened his posture. It chafed. “Ore-sama is fine, thank you.”  
  
“Why’re you in your warm-ups?” Shishido asked, snide smile in place. “It’s hot outside.”  
  
“Ore-sama may wear what he likes, Shishido.” It wasn’t that hot and the sweatpants accentuated Atobe’s long legs.  
  
“Atobe, are you wearing the support hose father sent you?” Oshitari asked as he entered the clubhouse.  
  
“You’re wearing pantyhose?” Gakuto quickly shoved his fist into his mouth to stifle his laughter. His mouth was big enough that there was room to spare.  
  
“I didn’t know you went to Oshitari’s hospital,” Ohtori said, being polite while laughing through his eyes. Ohtori would get extra laps after practice.  
  
“Ore-sama is not wearing pantyhose and ore-sama will be changing his medical establishment this afternoon.” Atobe gave in and adjusted the bunching support hose. He would keep his poor circulation if this is what he’d have to deal with every day.


	95. In the Groove (Rikkai)

When Sanada danced, he reminded Renji of a preserved frog shot with electricity. Sanada stood, posture perfect, and swayed until, without notice, his arms flailed out and his head jerked around.  
  
Kirihara danced like a porn star, all gyrating hips and flowing lines. “Come on fukubuchou, more hips! More hips!” Kirihara demonstrated and Yagyuu covered Niou’s eyes.  
  
Sanada tried and managed to look less like an electric frog and more like a snake coming out of a box. “This is ridiculous,” Sanada said, even though he was continuing to dance.  
  
“It’s fun!” Kirihara smiled and wiggled more. Yagyuu coughed and turned to the wall, hands still covering Niou’s eyes.   
  
Marui choked on his gum and Jackal began to administer the Heimlich.  
  
“Genichirou, haven’t you practiced enough?” Yukimura held a handkerchief to his nose, both to catch the blood and muffle the laughter.  
  
“I will not embarrass my brother at his wedding, “ Sanada said, face grim. “We will continue to practice until I have mastered it.”


	96. Island Getaway (St. Rudolph)

“Mizuki-san said he knew how to run the boat, so we shouldn’t have any problems da ne.”  
  
Yuuta turned his eyes away from Yanagisawa and his bright orange swim trunks. “We’re doomed,” he said, sinking down to the deck and covering his head. He didn’t want to be on this boat, headed for certain doom.   
  
“Shinya, you’re going to fall over!” Atsushi ran forward and pulled Yanagisawa off the railing.  
  
“I wanted to pet the fish da ne!”  
  
Yuuta curled tighter into his ball, rocking in synch with the boat. This would never be happening if he stayed at Seigaku. Aniki was at Seigaku, though, so that wasn’t an option. He was no one’s little brother!  
  
“Yuuta-kun, relax and enjoy the sun.” Mizuki slipped a hand into Yuuta’s huddle and raised his chin. “It’s a lovely day for a boat ride.”  
  
“Mizuki-san, who’s steering the boat?”  
  
“Don’t worry about that, Yuuta-kun. Just focus on the lovely motion of the boat.”  
  
“Rock! There’s a rock da ne!”  
  
“Shinya, get off the railing!”  
  
Splash. Crackle.  
  
“Ah, we’ve made it!” Mizuki rose and moved to the front of the boat. “Behold our island paradise.”  
  
“Great,” Yuuta said, curling back into his ball. “We’re stranded.”


	97. Warm (Maruihara)

“Ne, Bunta?” Kirihara lay, his head on Marui’s bare torso. It was ninety degrees out so both of them were draped across Marui’s futon, clad only in their tennis shorts. Marui was exposing Kirihara to classical music. It was supposed to help him focus.  
  
“Shh, a good part’s coming.” Marui’s hands conducted his MP3 symphony. He looked like he was juggling vibrating watermelons.  
  
Kirihara waited until the clarinet finished its solo. “Bunta?” He lolled his head to the side and stared at Marui’s chin.  
  
“Yeah?” Marui curled up to look at Kirihara, his abs compacting and pinching Kirihara’s hair. “You hate the music, right?”  
  
Kirihara turned, careful not to dig his shoulder into Marui’s side. “Nah, the music’s fine.” Kirihara traced Marui’s pectorals lightly with a finger. “Just wanted to say your name.”  
  
Marui rolled his eyes and slumped back down. “If you’re going to be weird about it, just call me Marui-senpai again.” Marui’s fingers began to comb through Kirihara’s hair.  
  
“But you said I could call you Bunta.” Kirihara leaned into Marui’s touch. The temperature in the room was going up. Marui’s steady heartbeat thudded in Kirihara’s ear. “The music’s making me sleepy.”  
  
“The music’s making you smarter.”  
  
Kirihara scooted up and curled himself around Marui, head resting on Marui’s shoulder. “It’s making me sleepy,” Kirihara insisted, hand splaying across Marui’s warm belly.  
  
Marui’s arm wrapped around Kirihara’s waist. “Take a nap. I’ll wake you when the next good part comes.”


	98. How the Peasants Live (Various)

The noise was keeping Atobe up and he would have none of it. If he was to perform properly against Sanada the next day, he needed his beauty sleep. Atobe couldn’t possibly be expected to play tennis with bags under his eyes.   
  
“If you don’t shut up, I’m tearing it off!”  
  
“Nfu, nfu.”  
  
Over and over, the screaming and the snickering and the loud thud-thud of a wooden headboard against the wall was keeping Atobe from his beautiful dreams. Squaring his shoulders and pulling a sense of dignity and authority around him like an electric blanket, Atobe barged into the room next door.  
  
Two identical backs faced him, one splayed across the wall, the other curled around the former, holding his wrists above his head. Two identical heads of curly black hair swayed back and forth, up and down.  
  
Atobe closed the door.   
  
He’d heard of incidents of incest occurring, but hadn’t thought to encounter it in his lifetime. That’s what he got for sharing space with the peasants. He would request a room change immediately.


	99. Doubles Pose (Silver Pair)

“Ohtori, Shishido, what are you doing?”  
  
“I’m proving a point, Atobe-san.” Ohtori waved and almost lost his balance on the bench. He and Shishido had been posing for about twenty minutes, Ohtori perched on the bench using one leg to support himself, and Shishido sitting on the ground.  
  
“And what point is that?” Atobe asked, rolling his eyes.  
  
“Shishido-san was being bothered by girls last week,” Ohtori said, shifting his weight a bit and rolling his ankle to keep his foot from falling asleep again. “They wouldn’t stop confessing to him. This is going to help.”  
  
“This is stupid,” Shishido said. His ass was numb and there was a red welt on his knee from leaning on it too much. “I can just tell them to go away, Choutarou.”  
  
“This is better,” Ohtori insisted. “Isn’t it, Atobe-san?” Ohtori’s smile widened and his pectorals rippled.   
  
Atobe turned to leave. “Do whatever you want. But Shishido, make sure you replace the buttons on that jersey, we are not a team of prostitutes.”  
  
“I told you the shirt was stupid,” Shishido grumbled to Ohtori, who just laughed and resumed his pose. The yearbook and school newspapers already had photos of Ohtori and Shishido in their new doubles pose. If the fangirls didn’t understand whose property Shishido was after the next issue of the school paper came out, Ohtori would take the direct approach. He would send Hiyoshi after them.


	100. Reminders (Rikkai)

  
Kirihara stared at the string tied around his pinky. It was red, so whatever it meant was important.  
  
“What’s that for?” Jackal asked, pointing to the string. Per usual, Jackal was watching Kirihara to make sure no disasters occurred in Sanada and Yukimura’s absence.  
  
“Dunno.” Kirihara continued to stare at the string. “I’m supposed to remember something.” He wiggled his finger. “Mom told me to tie string around my finger when I needed to remember stuff.”  
  
“It appears her methodology is flawed,” Yanagi said, taking hold of Kirihara’s finger. “At any rate, your finger will lose circulation unless you loosen the string. It would be unfortunate of you to be unable to play your match against Marui this afternoon short a finger.”  
  
“The match!” Kirihara said, yanking the string off. “I have to get ready for the match!” Kirihara grabbed Yanagi by the collar of his jersey. “Senpai, is my hair okay?”


	101. Walking (AkuSen)

Sengoku walked with his hands in his pockets, spine bent back a bit so he could stare at the sky and the sidewalk in front of him. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll get there just fine.”  
  
“Ch, shut up before I push you into the street.” Akutsu Jin walked next to Sengoku, hands also in his pockets, though that was an order from Sengoku to keep Akutsu from starting fights on the way to school.  
  
“No one’s going to mug me or anything. You didn’t have to come if it’s such a bother.” Sengoku grinned up at Akutsu. Jin left Yamabuki to apprentice himself to his mother’s café. He wanted to be a chef and had no need for the “idiot farm” that was the educational system.  
  
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” Jin growled, hand coming out of his pocket to shake in a fist in front of Sengoku’s nose.  
  
“I’m just sayin’ you could’ve slept in.” Sengoku stepped closer to his friend and nudged him in the ribs. “Or are you getting lonely in the restaurant all by yourself, huh?”  
  
Akutsu growled, but didn’t shove Sengoku into the street as he would have a month previous. “Shut up and keep walking.” Under his breath he said, “I came because I wanted to see you, moron.”   
  
“Ne Jin, make me one of those cool bentos tomorrow?” Sengoku nudged Akutsu in the ribs again.  
  
“Pass your English test first, idiot, and we’ll see.”


	102. Macho Man (OshiGaku)

Oshitari Yuushi was tired of being considered the sappy, romantic one. He was a tensai, not a girl.  
  
“Hey Yuushi, whatcha wanna do tonight?” Gakuto bounced up and snagged Yuushi’s arm up in a tight squeeze.  
  
“Paintball,” Oshitari drawled, frowning at his own accent. That would have to go. He tried again, enunciating every word, clearly and sharply. “I want to play paintball.”  
  
Gakuto’s grip loosened. “Something wrong, Yuushi? You’re acting weird.”  
  
“I’m fine.” Oshitari straightened his posture and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I’m going to cut my hair tomorrow. It’s in the way.”  
  
Hands smacked Yuushi on either cheek. “Who are you?” Gakuto braced himself on Yuushi’s shoulders and pulled up, bringing them eye to eye. “Did you hit your head, Yuushi? Drink something weird?” Gakuto pressed his nose to Yuushi’s. “Did Seigaku do this to you? I’ll kill ‘em.”  
  
Oshitari lifted Gakuto away by the waist. “I’m fine. I just want a change.” The polite nature would have to go, too. Girls were polite. “Deal with it.”


	103. Macho Man: The Sequel (OshiGaku)

“What did you do to him?” Gakuto held Inui by the collar and was shaking him. “What did you do!?”  
  
When the shaking stopped, Inui adjusted his megane. “What did I do to whom?” Inui consulted his notebook. “According to my notes, I’ve not been near the Hyoutei campus all week, nor have I encountered any members of the tennis team.”  
  
“Yuushi! What did you do to Yuushi?” Gakuto moved to shake Inui again, but the data player stepped away, thwapping Gakuto on the head with his notebook.  
  
“Perhaps if you detail the symptoms, I can assist as a goodwill gesture between our schools.” Inui’s pen poised over his notebook. “Now, please explain.”  
  
“He’s trying to act all tough,” Gakuto grumbled. “He’s gonna cut his hair! He can’t cut his hair. It’s good hair!” Gakuto’s eyes were wild and he looked as if he were going to lash out with his nails at Inui’s face if a solution wasn’t found quickly.  
  
“I see.” Inui adjusted his megane again. “Has Oshitari been under any stress lately?”  
  
“Well, uh, maybe, but not really, but maybe I said some stuff and then we did some stuff and we didn’t do it the way Yuushi wanted to, but it was really fun. I thought it was fun. Yuushi said he didn’t mind, but I guess he did and…”   
  
“Thank you, that will be enough. I believe I have come to the root of the problem.” Inui’s megane glinted in the sun. “Oshitari-kun is endeavoring to recapture his masculinity after a – stressful situation. It will pass.”  
  
“It better, or I’m coming back here, Seigaku, and I’m bringing my posse.” Gakuto tapped Inui’s nose with a finger. “Remember that.”


	104. Macho Man The Third (OshiGaku)

Yuushi arrived to tennis practice in cutoff sweatshorts and a t-shirt that read, in English,” Stick it to the Bitch Monkey Master.” He was aware it made no sense and that the phrase was rather obscene, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t wearing another sensible polo, another pair of loose but comfortable uniform sweatpants, custom tailored for him.   
  
“Oshitari, we do not allow vagabonds on our team,” Atobe said, turning his nose up at Oshitari’s chosen attire.   
  
“Go to hell,” Oshitari said, delighting in the escalation of Atobe’s eyebrows and the twitching of his fingers.  
  
“Oshitari, go home,” Atobe said, waiving the tensai off. “Whatever odd games you and Gakuto are playing will not be tolerated.”  
  
“Leave Gakuto out of this,” Oshitari growled, stepping forward into Atobe’s personal space. Atobe hated when you got in his personal space. “If you have a problem with me, we can settle it here and now.”  
  
“This is not a western and ore-sama is not going to resort to common means to deal with your mental problems, Oshitari. The school has a therapist. I suggest you go see him.” Atobe snapped his fingers and Kabaji was suddenly standing behind Oshitari, moving him off the courts. “When you find Gakuto, tell him he is not to wear a skirt to practice again unless he intends to join the girls’ team.”


	105. Macho Man IV: The Intervention (OshiGaku)

Gakuto didn’t think that wearing a skirt would get him sent to the school counselor. Shishido wore a skirt for the cultural festival and he didn’t get sent to the counselor. Of course, Shishido was too snappy to talk to anyone about his problems. Gakuto, on the other hand, had no problems talking.  
  
“I had a crush on Shishido during first year. Don’t tell him or he’ll get grossed out.” Gakuto watched the therapist scribble down stuff. Seigaku’s Inui was probably going to be a therapist, what with all the notebook writing and all. “I’m kinda grossed out when I think about it, but he had good hair, ya know?” The therapist wrote more. “You probably don’t know. You’ve got a wife, right?” The therapist did. “I wanted a wife, too, but I got Yuushi, which is kinda the same. I mean, he’s really neat and stuff, even if his locker’s not that clean, but he makes sure his clothes are washed and he showers a lot.”  
  
Gakuto looked at the diplomas in frames on the wall. “Yuushi’s dad has a lot of diplomas. Yuushi’s going to also, cuz he’s a tensai. I’m gonna stay home and cook and stuff.” Gakuto’s eyes narrowed and he pointed at the therapist. “Don’t tell him that, though. He doesn’t know. Besides, if he doesn’t stop freaking out over getting topped, then everything’s gonna be ruined.”  
  
The therapist pointed at the clock. Time was up.  
  
“Don’t tell anyone what I said about Shishido. The rest is fine, but if he finds out, I’m dead. And don’t tell anyone about Yuushi, either. Actually, keep your damn mouth shut, got it?”   
  
The therapist got it.


	106. Macho Man: The United (OshiGaku)

Oshitari held the scissors to his head but couldn’t bring himself to make the first cut.  
  
“If you’re gonna do it, stop fucking around and just do it,” Shishido said, throwing a wet towel into the laundry bin.   
  
“Fuck off,” Oshitari said, lowering the scissors.   
  
Shishido laughed and took the scissors, trimming a bit of his own hair. It was growing in weird and getting in his eyes. “You sound like a seven year old when you swear, just so you know.” He gave the scissors back to Oshitari, who stared at them, defeated.  
  
“May I ask you something?” Oshitari reverted back to his native drawl. Talking like a Tokyo bum was difficult and used far more air than Oshitari cared to expend talking to Shishido, who was unlikely to understand anything anyway.  
  
“Just did.”  
  
“How does one attain dominance in a relationship?” Oshitari watched Shishido’s eyes slide out of his skull, roll about on the floor, then jump back into their sockets.  
  
“Who wa huh?” What did a classed individual like Ohtori see in an imbecile like Shishido?  
  
“Nevermind,” Oshitari sighed, teasing out his hair into its usual rat’s nest. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”  
  
“Nonono,” Shishido stopped Oshitari on his way out of the clubhouse. “I get what you’re saying, I just didn’t…really? He’s really - I mean, he was wearing a skirt for you today, so I thought – I’ll be damned.” Shishido looped an arm over Oshitari’s shoulders in mock brotherhood. “You can buy me dinner and we’ll have a talk.”  
  
“This is just a ploy for free dinner. You’re not actually interested in helping me.”  
  
“You care or have something better to do?”  
  
Oshitari did not. “We’re going to Happy Burger and you’re eating from the 100 yen menu.”


	107. Macho Man: The Finale (OshiGaku)

  
“If I promise to let you be on top, will you keep your hair?” Gakuto asked, tugging on Yuushi’s wrist. “I don’t really care about any of that stuff, so just keep the hair and we’ll do whatever you want, kay?”  
  
Oshitari, who prepared a grand speech about a man’s rights and the violations thereof, stood and stared. “Gakuto, I…”  
  
“No Yuushi, let me finish. I talked with someone about this and…”  
  
“You talked to someone about our sex life?” Oshitari would never be able to step foot on campus again. “Who was it?” He could kill them and hide the body at his father’s hospital. No one would notice it there.  
  
“Just the school therapist. Chill, Yuushi, I didn’t run around telling everybody I…”  
  
“You what?” Jirou jumped out from behind the lockers and looked at the doubles team expectantly. “What’s going on? Is it a secret? Can I know? Does Atobe know?”  
  
“Nothing Jirou, go back to sleep.” Oshitari adjusted his megane. He couldn’t kill Jirou, Atobe would know and send a team of snipers to kill Gakuto in retribution.  
  
“You’re boring,” Jirou yawned, stumbling out of the clubhouse.  
  
“See Yuushi, it could be worse. You could be going out with Atobe or something.” Gakuto slid up behind Oshitari and wrapped his arms around the tensai’s waist, pressing his nose into Yuushi’s spine.   
  
“Gakuto, I’m not going to cut my hair.” Oshitari wouldn’t be able to stand looking like Shishido, so low class and scruffy. Yuushi was cleverly disheveled, never scruffy.   
  
“Hey Yuushi, can you wear those shorts again? They were really nice.” Gakuto accented his acceptance of the shorts with a smack to Yuushi’s rear. “I could sew you up a few more pairs.”  
  
“You sew?” This was the first time Oshitari’d heard of it.  
  
“It’s no big deal,” Gakuto grumbled, taking up Yuushi’s jersey between his teeth.   
  
“It was surprising, is all.” Oshitari tried to removed the jersey from between Gakuto’s teeth but the shorter boy wouldn’t give it up. “Gakuto, please stop eating my jersey. I’ve been sweating all day.” Oshitari pitched his voice low. “You can drink directly from the tap, if you’re so adamant to have my sweat in your mouth.”  
  
Gakuto spit out the jersey. “You’re gross, Yuushi.” A pink tongue slid over dry lips. “Let’s go.”


	108. Little Creatures (KinderHyoutei)

Atobe stared at the toddling thing in front of him, staring up with wide, watery eyes. “Go away,” he told it, shoving it away with a foot.  
  
“Keigo!” the toddler cried in glee, hooking pudgy arms around Atobe’s ankle.  
  
This was not how dignified Atobe, at a stately age of three, wanted to spend his afternoon. “Get off!” He’d rather say something longer and with more flare, like his father, but he couldn’t quite remember the words. He’d study, though, then the world would see the might of Atobe Keigo, kindergarten superstar.  
  
“Keigo!” the toddler said, petulant this time. He wasn’t pleased that Atobe’s attention was elsewhere.  
  
“Chonaro, let go of ore-sama’s foot.” Atobe kicked but the toddler wouldn't let go. “Mom! Chonaro won’t get off me! Mooooooom!” Atobe kicked again.  
  
“Come here Choutarou-kun,” Atobe’s mother called, patting her lap. “Sit with auntie while she watches television.” Atobe’s mother liked to watch American soap operas. She didn’t understand English, but she enjoyed the men with open-chested shirts. “See Choutarou, that’s what women want their men to look like. Grow up like that and your mother will be proud of you.” She patted Choutarou’s head while his glazed eyes watched Samantha bitch slap Michael into a brick wall.  
  
Atobe returned to his Legos, glad to be rid of the little pest. Atobe Keigo did not need playmates, particularly ones that drooled on his shoes.


	109. Vogue (KinderHyoutei)

Chibi Choutarou sat in the corner, glaring daggers at Atobe’s back. Just because he was older, Atobe always got to be the father when they played house and Ohtori was stuck being the mom or the dog. He scratched at the pink ribbon tied around his neck.  
  
“Leave it,” Atobe said, preening in a mirror. “Tou-san thinks the gothic Lolita look is good for you.”  
  
Atobe found a magazine in his mother’s room and was now obsessed with petticoats and ribbons. Choutarou thought that Atobe would look good in the petticoats, but Keigo didn’t seem interested in doing anything but putting Ohtori in ridiculous outfits and taking pictures.   
  
“Pose with your hand higher,” Atobe said, his tiny fingers barely able to wrap around the 35mm camera.  
  
Luckily, Atobe didn’t know that you needed flash for the camera to work. And batteries.  
  
Choutarou slid his hand up the wall and flashed a little leg. He was staying over at Atobe’s tonight. When Keigo woke up, he was going to find himself covered in lipstick and bubblegum. The bubblegum would keep the small lace bonnet on and the lipstick would look really nice around Atobe’s eyes.  
  
“More leg, Choutarou!” Atobe snapped his fingers and dropped the camera.  
  
Choutarou snickered and complied.


	110. Trampoline Trouble (KinderHyoutei)

At age four, Gakuto received his first trampoline. It was a Christmas gift and came in a box that claimed the device would build muscle in a matter of weeks. After a year of use, Gakuto wasn’t seeing any improvement.  
  
“Mom, this thing doesn’t work.” Gakuto dragged the trampoline into the kitchen. “I haven’t got any muscle.”  
  
Mukahi-san took the trampoline and ruffled Gakuto’s hair. “Of course you’ve grown muscle dear. Look in the mirror.”  
  
Gakuto scrambled to the curio and flexed. “Liar. There’s nothing there!” He flexed again. Wow, he looked cool. He’d look cooler with bulging biceps, though.  
  
“You look fine, dear. You’re sneaky-strong.”   
  
“Sneaky-strong?” Gakuto’s eyes brightened. “Like a ninja?”  
  
“Yes dear.” Mukahi-san’s attention was back on the leaks simmering on the stove.  
  
“Awesome.” Gakuto hefted the trampoline and made for the dining room. He needed some throwing stars. Until then, his mom’s tea saucers would work.


End file.
